Not your fault
by cherrishish
Summary: Season 10 Mark of Cain angst with a female OC character and the boys, revolving around a training mishap and the fall out. Sickfic, care taking fic, sick!OC, sick!Sam, sick!Dean.
1. Chapter 1

Living in the Bunker took some getting used to. Stephanie Holbrook was a legacy just like the Winchesters, though she had never even heard of monsters and things that go bump in the night until a fateful day in December, 2014, when Dean had saved her from a vampire. Sam managed to find them too, forty minutes later when Dean was already in the midst of patching her up in the back of the Impala, pissed at his brother for ditching him and going off on a hunt alone.

And Sam being Sam, encyclopedic mind and all, asked immediately when he heard her last name if there was any relation to Ernest Holbrook. As a matter fact there was. Turns out her grandfather was a Man of Letters, killed in 1958 when the whole order was wiped out by a demon. The family never knew what had happened to him, he just vanished off the face of the Earth. Steph's father though devastated by the news was glad to finally have some closure, not having to wonder if his father had abandoned him and his mom or not when he was just five.

For her protection they brought her to the Bunker until they hunted down the whole nest. And then it just sort of escalated from there, and she soon became a permanent resident at the Bunker. Steph didn't go out on hunts with the boys but instead busied herself with combing through every inch of the archives, library and records, digitalizing every piece of knowledge there was – scanning books, running OCR on those she could, so the texts would become searchable too, and organizing all the indexes and ledgers into huge excel spreadsheets. It was a big project but she somehow took it upon herself to be the new librarian of the MoL. Funny thing is, that is exactly in line with her qualifications and previous job history.

When either of the boys was available, she asked them to teach her how to fight, shoot guns and all that fun stuff. Strictly for self-defense purposes she told them, and it was mostly true but sometimes she itched for something exciting. Needless to say, she was met with a universal no on the full hunter initiation, but they agreed to the physical training nonetheless given that she was occasionally left all alone in the Bunker for extended periods of time.

Instead, she was research central, helping Sam out in person or over the phone when they got stumped in a case. Kind of a Bobby 2.0 (or 3.0 if you counted Garth) with a female upgrade. More often than not, that research involved the Mark of Cain and how to get rid of it. No luck so far in that department.

On this fine April morning Stephanie was sitting in the library yet again, hunched over like a dozen books that were sprawled out around her when Dean wandered in.

"'Morning, kiddo," he acknowledged her in that gruff manner that projected to the world than no he was not alright, and no he did not want to talk about it.

Of course, all of them knew the Mark was taking its toll on him, slowly grating away at some sort of self-control barrier, but Steph never really got the message to be afraid of the guy. Maybe because she wasn't around to witness him turning into a demon. In either case, she never nagged or fussed like Sam, just helped where she could for which Dean was immensely grateful.

"Still not a kid," she quipped back from behind the curtain of her purple bob. She was twenty-nine, for crying out loud. Only seven years younger than Dean.

Dean just huffed at her, looking around the length of the room.

"Sam's still sleeping if you are looking for him," Steph supplied after glancing up due to the ensuing silence.

Dean just frowned at that but didn't care to comment. It wasn't like Sammy to sleep in, he was normally an early riser and all, usually going out for a run or something. Though they did get in late last night, so that could count as a good excuse he supposed.

"Hey, do you think we could sneak in a sparring session? Getting kind of rusty here with you guys being gone for two weeks," her grey eyes lit up in anticipation.

The older Winchester paused to consider, then just shrugged and beckoned her to follow.

* * *

At first everything seemed to be fine, it truly did. But then she started feeling increasingly fatigued and sluggish, continually missing the beat to block or evade some of Dean's punches and swings, soon after which she suddenly found herself in a chokehold.

Steph had never been the overly athletic type – too soft around the edges, though not plump enough to be called fat – but she had her moves if she concentrated hard enough. But despite her clever tactics she wouldn't have been able to overcome Dean Winchester even on a good day if he really got his hold on her. And today was _not_ a good day for her, she could tell. She tried twisting, kicking, elbowing her way out, then tapping Dean on the arm, signaling him to release her when she saw that there was no use fighting.

It didn't even seem to register with the hunter.

"Dean… can't… breathe…" Steph managed to squeeze the words out frantically, on the brink of passing out.

About ten seconds later she heard the door bursting open, someone wrestling Dean off of her.

"What the hell, man?!" Sam yelled angrily at Dean who looked like someone who had just come out of a daze, while Steph just lay there curled up into a ball on the floor, frantically trying to catch her breath, coughing and inhaling ragged, desperate puffs of air. If she didn't have a sore throat before, she surely had one now.

"Steph?" Sam's hand landed soothingly on her shoulder blades. The touch made the girl flinch at first, still too keyed out by the near death experience, but the tension seeped out of her shoulders a second later as she deliberately timed her breaths to slow them down.

"I… uhm," Dean stammered, his expression torn between panic and a hard mask designed to shut it all out. "I'm… I'm so, so sorry."

And with that he stormed out, guilt ridden, probably to lock himself up in his room. Steph wanted to go after him, to tell him it wasn't his fault, that she wasn't angry, but she couldn't even lift her head properly, so she gave up on that plan pretty quickly.

"Let's get you back to your room, okay?" Sam suggested, when her face wasn't quite as red and blue for the exertion and oxygen deprivation anymore.

Steph nodded, not trusting her voice, but when she proceeded to stand up with Sam's help, her knees buckled under her, so he ended up scooping her up in his arms and carrying her bridal style.

 _There are definitely worse ways to go_ , Steph mused internally.

Truth be told, she had the biggest crush on both boys since the moment she met them, and the more she found out about their lives, the deeper she seemed to be going down the rabbit hole. Some information was given to her willingly, other pieces she found out from the Supernatural books. It was Charlie who sent her the links to the online versions with a wink when coming back from Oz she had found out that Steph had been living with the Winchesters for a couple weeks already.

Said books also convinced her to shut the hell up about any and all feelings she might have for either of them because a) practically all women romantically involved in their lives ended up dead or with wiped memories, and b) she didn't want to look like a fucking groupie.

No, she was just content on being helpful and supportive where she could. That didn't mean that having Sam's arms around her didn't fill her with an odd sense of satisfaction. Even if the boys only looked at her like a sister of sorts.

Coming down from the adrenalin rush made her extremely drowsy. To the point that it almost didn't register with her that Sam had already placed her down on her bed and tucked her in.

* * *

Her throat hurt, her neck hurt, her whole body felt like a pile of lead when she next woke. According to her clock it was already late afternoon, and even though she had completely missed lunch, she wasn't the least bit hungry.

Steph coaxed herself out of bed anyway, knowing that Sam would be worried if she didn't show her face for dinner. Besides, on most days she was the one doing the cooking, so with Dean holed up, probably sulking, in his room, there wouldn't even _be_ dinner if she didn't venture out.

She was still in her stinky, sweaty workout clothes from before and the way the air of the room made her shiver convinced her that a hot shower would be the best course of action before leaving.

The mirror was not a forgiving object at the moment though. She looked like a mess, bed head, slightly red eyes, and a couple of faint bruises not only along her neck but also some more severe ones on her arms and sides where the poorly blocked hits had landed. Like a freaking domestic violence victim, which she was absolutely not! With a scowl she stepped into the shower, thanking everything that's holy for the excellent water pressure.

Twenty minutes later she was making her way to the kitchen, leaning heavily on the walls for support, dressed in fresh yoga pants and an overly large sweatshirt. She made a conscious effort to pull the hood close around her neck to hide the evidence of the morning's happenings that weren't already covered by the long sleeves.

Only to find Sam standing in the kitchen, frantically looking between a cookbook and what seemed to be pasta in one pot and some kind of sauce in another. Sam didn't cook. Period. Not because he didn't want to, but because he was hopeless in the kitchen.

"L…" _Let me take over before you set something on fire_ , she wanted to say, but her voice was completely gone, and only managed to force out a small choked sound that resembled a drowning cat. But even that was enough to gain the 6'4 tall guy's attention, and he spun around with a startled yelp. With the pan still in his hand. As a result, there now was tomato sauce decorating the floor around him in a colorful three-foot radius.

Steph shook her head in a sort of fond annoyance, and backed out to search the supply closet for a mop or something similar. Half a minute later she handed a squeegee to the giant with one hand as she stepped over the mess, taking the pan away from him with the other and gestured for him to take care of the floor while she tried to save dinner.

The pasta was already overcooked, so she took it off the heat and filtered off the water, then shuffled around Sam to the fridge to see if there were other things she could make sauce out of. Thankfully there was more canned tomato and Sam hadn't even touched the ground beef yet that was supposed to have been seared before the tomato was poured on it. She sighed with another shake of her head, shivering with the cold that flowed out from the fridge. Sam was truly hopeless, but at least she had everything to start from scratch.

 _"Hyitshew"_ she sneezed into her elbow suddenly, taking herself completely by surprise. It wasn't particularly harsh but even that hurt like a motherfucker.

"Bless you," Sam said automatically, good manners drilled into him, not even realizing at first what had happened, then he frowned as he appraised Steph's appearance. She looked way too pale for his liking. "You okay?"

She just nodded as she quickly got her ingredients and closed the fridge, silently getting to work.

To be honest, she wasn't alright, but she wasn't about to worry Sam with it. Her throat was absolutely killing her. No wonder she had no voice. The only question was: laryngitis due to trauma or was she actually getting sick? Maybe both?

Neither prospect would ease Dean's guilt once he found out. Choking a girl almost to death was bad enough, but choking a _sick_ girl almost to death? Damn, Dean was going to take this to heart. Although getting sick _would_ explain why she sucked ass during sparring. She was usually much better at keeping up with the relentless pace Dean set to their training sessions.

Steph set the plate of food in front of Sam thirty minutes later on auto-pilot while her mind ran amok aimlessly. She sat down across from him, laying her head down on her arms, totally conked out from even this small amount of activity.

"Aren't you going to eat?" the younger Winchester asked.

She shook her head slightly, not looking up. Sam frowned. He reached over and brushed her hair out of her face as she kept staring off to the side. He sucked in a sharp breath when he noticed the bruise on her neck.

"Stephanie…" he began with trepidation. "Did Dean do this?"

The girl looked up finally and just shrugged in a way that said 'it couldn't be helped' before averting her gaze again.

"Come on, look at me," Sam insisted. "You haven't said a word all evening."

" _Because I can't,_ " Steph mouthed at him, pointing to her throat.

"Oh," was all he said, a broken, defeated little sound, as if he was to blame for the whole thing. "I should have gotten there faster, realized sooner what you guys were doing…"

Steph snapped her fingers at him to get his attention and gestured for him to cut that shit out immediately. If anyone was to blame it was her. She shouldn't have assumed that Dean was fine to be put in any situation that resembled a fight.

"Sure you'll be fine? We can go get a doctor to look at you…" Sam offered, even though they didn't really have money for things like that.

" _And say what? Sorry, got accidentally choked?_ " she mouthed her rant, but realized soon enough that Sam wasn't following. Reading lips was tricky business, one he didn't exactly excel at.

The hunter sprung up from his place and searched around for a minute till he found a little notepad and a pen for Steph to use as a means of communications.

 **No need just give it a few days** , she wrote instantly.

Sam looked at her with a look that told her that he knew that wasn't what she said initially, but he let it go anyway.

 **Going back to sleep** , Steph scribbled again, leaving the stuff there and escaping before Sam could read it and stop her, insisting that she eat something first.

* * *

That night she slept fitfully, first too hot, then too cold, all in all a shivering mess. Steph woke up around two in the morning, startled from a nightmare that she couldn't remember a second later, breathing hard, practically panting, with her throat on fire. There was no doubt in her mind that she had a fever, all the signs were right there. And if she had a fever then her sore throat might have been more to do with an infection than anything Dean did, although surely that did not help matters.

She almost went straight back to sleep when she thought she saw the silhouette of someone sitting in the armchair in the corner. The lights that were filtering in from the hallway under the crack of her door were just enough to vaguely make out the outlines of furniture – and apparently a person – in her room. She knew this should have freaked her out more than it did, but there were only two people besides her in the whole damn wide place and she didn't mind either of them watching over her.

And since Sam wouldn't have sat there in full darkness and would have at least switched the bedside lamp on…

"Dean?" she managed to croak out, her voice breaking off even with that one syllable.

"Sorry, I should go," he automatically said, assuming that he was unwelcome, already pushing himself out of the chair when Stephanie caught his arm.

"Stay," the girl whispered in a similar fashion as before, scooting over to make room for him.

Dean sat down against the headboard, remaining above the covers. She snuggled up against his hips as much she dared, letting out a contented sigh when he tentatively wove his hand through her hair.

"Shit, you are burning up," he said a second later as he felt the heat radiating off of her, gliding his hand down to her forehead to confirm.

Steph just hummed, not denying it, but that set her off into a painful throaty coughing fit, which she smothered into her blanket. Dean rubbed her back, his touch sending shivers across her skin that had nothing to do with illness.

"Are you cold?" Dean inquired, not knowing the reason behind her bodily responses.

She slightly shook her head, telling him no, but snuggled into his side even more anyway, and threw a hand over his legs to hold him in place for good measure, the fever short fusing her inhibitions. The hunter just chuckled at that.

"Clingy sickie, aren't we?" he mused fondly, pulling up her blanket over her exposed shoulder and arm to make sure she didn't get chilled.

Steph would have punched him probably for that comment, had she been more alert, but instead she just let unconsciousness drag her down further.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning there was no Dean to be seen anywhere, and at first Steph wasn't sure if she had just dreamt that whole episode or if it really did happen. The fever made everything fuzzy. Her heart couldn't decide if it would be relieved or utterly disappointed if she ended up imagining it all. On the one hand she could spare feeling embarrassed if it was only a dream, on the other hand that would mean she didn't get to cuddle up to Dean when she was feeling miserable. Tough choice.

Her internal musings were cut short by a small knock on her door, after which Sam entered with a tray full of all sorts of medications, water and food. With his disapproving bitch face plastered on him, obviously unimpressed by something.

"Dean said you were sick," he explained chidingly, though that didn't exactly clarify her doubts regarding what had transpired during the night either way, just confirmed that Dean knew. He could have checked on her during the morning for all she knew. "You really should have told me yesterday."

"I would have…" Steph tried to speak, but her voice was so horrible that she would have stopped herself even if she didn't break out into a small coughing fit that thankfully ended pretty quickly.

"Write. Don't speak," Sam handed her the notepad and pen again, also prepared on the tray with forethought, his expression more sympathetic than scolding now.

 **Would have if I had known yesterday** , she scribbled down hastily, her handwriting almost illegible.

Sam glanced at her with incredulity then instead of further berating her he just handed her a thermometer off the tray, setting the rest down on her nightstand and sat down on the edge of her bed.

She carefully weighed the pros and cons to being a difficult patient for just the heck of it, but she knew she would never be able to resist Sammy's puppy dog eyes if he chose to utilize them on her, so she just took the damned thing in her mouth without so much as a huff, resting back against the pillows.

The younger Winchester's expression warmed at that and he patted her casually on her shins in approval, absolutely oblivious as to how much that physical contact meant to her. Of course, instantly she remembered snuggling up to Dean during the night, and most certainly blushed at the memory, but hopefully that was concealed by the fever flush in her cheeks.

Before her thoughts could get out of hand, imagining Sam giving her sponge baths and stuff, the instrument in her mouth beeped, quickly extracted by Sam before she could take a look.

"101.8. Guess it could be worse," he sighed, giving her a couple of liquid medications to take since surely swallowing pills would be a real pain right now. Steph sat up and took those too without a fuss, only slightly wincing as the contents of the cups slid down her esophagus.

Sam was about to get up and leave her to rest when she tugged on his sleeve to sit back down, and when she had captured his attention again, she quickly began writing on her pad.

 **Dean okay?**

"What do you mean?" Sam looked puzzled. Dean had looked fine. Slightly sleep-deprived, which to be completely honest wasn't a rare occurrence for them, but fine.

 **Still beating himself up?**

Ah, _that_.

"I guess so. We didn't really talk, he just stormed into the kitchen at 6 AM telling me that he will try to get a bit of shut eye and that I should come check on you because you were running a fever," the guy elaborated, thorn with worry for both of his fellow legacies.

Honestly he didn't really know how Stephanie felt about what happened yesterday, she was so withdrawn last night, even considering that her voice was gone. She was usually much more energetic than that. Though now that could be chalked up to the fact that she had been coming down with something, Sam had been worried that it was partially resentment towards Dean. He wouldn't have blamed her. Thankfully her questions and demeanor spoke about pretty much the opposite now.

 _So he didn't sleep all night. Did he spend it watching over me?_ Steph pondered, tapping the point of the pen against the paper, as she mulled over what to do. Her first instinct was to comfort Dean, somehow make him understand that it wasn't him, not really, who caused her pain. She glanced at her clock, it was 8 AM now. He needed his rest too, this could wait a bit longer.

 **Send him my way when you see him?**

"Sure," Sam smiled at her warmly. "Don't forget to eat your breakfast."

Food sounded about just as pleasant as shoving a wire brush down her throat, and her face sure said it all, because Sam was suddenly looking at her like a sad little, kicked puppy, meaning he was the one to prepare it and would be hurt beyond measure if she refused. Steph took a piece of toast and nibbled on it half-heartedly, along with sipping some tea until he was satisfied and backed out of the room.

Having slept practically all day yesterday Steph felt enough energy in herself to actually stay awake and read something. She scooted to other end of her bed, since her small bookshelf was against the wall on that side of the room. She even managed to take those two steps to reach it without falling over.

Stephanie decided to reread one of her favorite series, which ironically enough were urban fantasy novels. She hadn't gotten them out since discovering the truth about the supernatural world, so she thought it would be interesting to revisit them with the newly acquired perspective.

Her enthusiastic over-estimation of her current capabilities lasted about thirty pages before she dozed off.

* * *

Dean found her passed out with a book open face down on her stomach around noon. She looked utterly peaceful, small exhales puffing from her mouth, her short purple hair sprawled out around her face like a halo.

Sometimes Dean wondered what they had done to deserve the girl in their lives. Her no nonsense attitude and grounding force was probably the only thing that had kept Dean from spiraling out of control for this long.

After a few seconds of admiring her, he shuffled closer to check her forehead, happy to find that it wasn't as warm as last night and tried to move her book to the nightstand to keep its pages from getting crumpled without waking her, but failed miserably.

" _Hey_ ," she mouthed at him, her grey, half-lidded eyes never leaving him as she stretched sleepily.

"Didn't mean to wake you," Dean grunted contritely, already looking for an escape. When he saw that she was asleep he hoped to avoid whatever talk she wanted to have for another few hours.

Instantly alert, noticing the telltale signs of the Winchester evasion, she glanced around quickly for her notepad to answer, hurrying to make sure he didn't bail on her before she could finish writing.

 **It's fine, I wanted you to come** , Steph wrote before handing it over to him to read.

"Sammy said as much," he agreed passing the notepad back, unsure if he should sit down or stay standing up, shuffling on his feet uncomfortably, not knowing were exactly the conversation was going. Stephanie hanging onto him in the middle of the night while her fever spiked might not reflect the way she felt about yesterday morning at all.

Honestly he wanted her to be furious, angry, scream and shout at him – well do the writing equivalent of it under the circumstances (another thing to feel guilty about, last night her voice was intensely hoarse, but he hadn't realized that it was this bad then, just chalked it up to sleepy grogginess) – but somehow he had the feeling that wasn't going to happen.

 **Yesterday's not your fault,** she stated simply like there was nothing complicated about it.

"Yes, it is," Dean countered, his knee-jerk reaction of self-blame and self-hatred kicking in, his face growing even more serious.

Steph wanted to reply instantly, do anything to negate his shame, but she was suddenly over taken by an intense tickle in her sinuses. The pen dropped out of her hand as she ducked to the side to avoid spraying the older Winchester.

" _Hi'kTCHEW_ " she sneezed into her elbow.

Dean passed her a tissue without a word, which she took gratefully, blew her nose, and then continued on with her note.

 **No, it's not. But even if it was, I forgive you** , she peered up at him earnestly, wanting him to believe it.

Dean looked at the message for several minutes with a deep, deep scowl before opening his mouth again.

"How are you feeling?" he asked instead to change the subject, causing Stephanie to groan in frustration. Classic Dean.

 **Sore throat, laryngitis, I'll live** , she rolled her eyes as she wrote.

"Wasn't asking for a diagnosis, House," Dean huffed, and if he weren't in such a foul mood constantly with the Mark's influence, he might have found the face Steph made at him amusing.

 **Miserable, but I'll live, still not your fault**, she jotted down quickly on the next page, grinning like a lunatic because she knew Dean was getting frustrated with her nonchalant attitude in turn.

That's how they rolled most of the time. Steph never giving him any hint of being fearful of him, and never letting him get away with turning everything back against himself, while he desperately tried to avoid being comforted. Not just by her, anyone. And no matter how many times the boys came back from a hunt, looking grim, because Dean got carried away – however minutely – she would always just tell him 'next time you'll do better'.

He sighed exasperatedly, running his hand over his face to calm himself, because he really didn't want to go down this familiar road now.

"So, what were you reading?" the hunter the changed the subject again, but this time Stephanie let him, because there was just a hint of softening in his eyes that told her that maybe he at least partially believed her words. If nothing else, believed that Stephanie wholeheartedly wasn't holding a grudge.

 **Iron Druid Chronicles** , Steph beamed like a maniac because honestly she could talk about them for hours. Too bad she was confined by the speed at which she could scribble and the 5 by 7 inch pieces of paper.

Dean quirked his brow at her, first of all because he had no idea what she was talking about, secondly because of the way her face lighted up from just mentioning it. He was surrounded by geeks all round. First Sammy, then Charlie came along, now Stephanie too. Of course their specific interests were slightly varied, but the face they would make if you somehow brought their passions up was utterly the same.

 **Urban fantasy novel** , the ill girl tried with the genre next.

Still absolutely no hint of recognition on his face.

 **Kind of like our life, vampires, werewolves and shit but with a lot humor and a telepathically talking dog** , she explained enthusiastically.

Before he could react she snatched the notepad back and kept writing.

 **And a 2100 year old badass sexy druid of course**

Dean let out an amused laugh and Steph mentally patted herself on the back for lightening the mood finally.

"You know there was a case… about a year and a half ago? Not exactly sure. Our only witness was a dog so we did a risky spell so that I could speak with him," he reminisced with a half-smile, then frowned suddenly. "Though that smart ass pigeon still has a bullet coming to him."

Stephanie had no idea what he was talking about, but she hopped the wave of his good mood nonetheless.

 **You should read it** , the girl suggested expectantly.

"Nah, sounds more like something Sammy would enjoy," Dean declined without a second thought. Reading wasn't his cup of tea if it didn't involve research, and even then he liked to pass it off to Sam.

 **Don't decide until you gave it a try** , Steph insisted fervently, almost punching through the paper with the point of the pen as she wrote.

"No, I don't think so…" he protested still.

Then inspiration suddenly hit her. Dean wouldn't do anything for himself, but if it were for someone else…

 **Read it to me?** she jotted down, playing up the sick card by coughing lightly into her elbow.

"What are you, like five?" the older hunter huffed, frowning at her like she had grown two heads or something.

 **Pretty please?** Stephanie glanced up, batting her eyelashes for effect.

"Seriously, you are worse than Sam…" Dean grumbled, his resistance starting to crumble.

 **You know you adore me, don't deny it** , the girl hammered in the last nail.

"Okay, fucking scoot over then…" his tone was still grouchy, but his eyes told a whole other story to Stephanie. She knew this was natural to him, acting like a big brother. And even though that was most definitely not the role she would have preferred him in, she was taking what she could get. So she slid over, leaving him plenty of space to sit on top of the bed without touching if he didn't want to, then turned on her side to face towards him.

The older Winchester hopped down with some words of disbelief muttered under his breath, then picked the book up from the nightstand, opening it where Stephanie had left off. She quickly snatched it from him, turning to the first page. Or let's say, a bit before the first page.

Dean rolled his eyes at her, but began on the page handed to him.

"Irish Pronunciation Guide, are you kidding me?" he looked at her incredulously.

Thankfully Steph still had her notepad and pen in her hands, so she wrote **More fun that way**.

"Crowley would have a field day with this," the hunter grumbled on, stalling.

 **He is Scottish** , Steph corrected him.

"Whatever," Dean waved her off. "Wait, how do you even know that?"

 **Bobby's journal** , she supplied as a matter of fact. Naturally she had never actually met the King of Hell, the boys were very particular about her being nowhere near if they tried to contact the demon.

"Oh, right. How could I forget… He even made me get on a freaking airplane…" the memory of them flying across the pond to dig up Crowley's bones made him shudder. He hated flying with a passion.

For a moment he wanted to ask why she was reading Bobby's journal in the first place, but given her self-appointed librarian position, it wasn't such a surprise. Over the months she had read through the majority of their personal collections – thank heaven that Bobby, being a paranoid bastard, had photocopied all his rare books and stashed those in safe houses – and some of the Men of Letters library too. Even if she didn't know the exact contents of a lore off the bat she almost certainly knew where to look.

After getting his pronunciation approved by Stephanie he began to read aloud but had to stop to laugh out at the very first paragraph. It was genuinely _funny_. Hilarious even. As the story continued, conveniently from the first person view of the main character, he could even identify with the fucker. Dean never had an experience like this before while reading fiction. Not that he had read much fiction in his life.

Stephanie just smiled to herself because she knew for a 100% that he was hooked and would be pestering her for the next installments within days. Dean's deep voice had a lulling effect on her though and she was falling asleep again within minutes, subconsciously clutching onto his flannel shirt so he wouldn't escape.


	3. Chapter 3

_She was floating in an endless void, cold, dark and lonely. Adrift with no beginning or end, no purpose, no destination. At first she tried to find an exit, an escape, anything, but even if she managed to move at all, she couldn't tell, there was no purchase, friction or anything, just space. Too much of it. Later when she realized that her struggles had to result, she tried to call for help, for anyone, just anyone really to keep her company at least, but there was no sound emerging from her throat, or it was lost in the vacuum, who knows._

 _She didn't know how much time had passed, but with each second she was freaking out more and more. The darkness became suffocating, pressing down on her, making it difficult to breathe. She desperately wanted it to end, but saw no means to stop it herself. Was she dying? She didn't really have anything else to compare it to. Everything was closing in on her._

 _The worst part was that she distinctly remembered that someone was supposed to be there with her, but couldn't recall who, or see where they might have gone. She gave yelling another go, but still there was only silence, deafening silence._

* * *

Sam stumbled in on this scene an hour later, delivering some soup as lunch for Stephanie. Dean stopped reading abruptly, as if he was caught doing something dirty, but he was still a few seconds too late on the uptake. The damage was already done, Sam had heard him. He had been reading each character's dialogue out loud in a different tone of voice, and he had just been delivering the Celtic Chooser of the Slain's rant regarding feasting on the hearts of couple of stoners for offending her.

In all honesty this act alone would have been enough to compel them to hunt the ass of the Pagan Goddess down, but instead, in the context of the book at least, it was amusing the hell out of Dean. As far he was concerned the fuckers deserved it! Don't mess with the Battle Crow!

Sam just quirked his brow at him, smirking to himself, but didn't comment. Heaven forbid he somehow discouraged this newfound habit of his.

"What?" Dean huffed indignantly, eyes averted in embarrassment.

"Nothing…" the younger Winchester whispered back, drawing out the word more than necessary. "Is the Morrigan really as hot as she sounded?"

"Given that she is fully nude in the scene…" the older Winchester trailed off. In his books probably any girl would be hot without clothes on.

"Never mind. Just gotta give it to Steph for getting you to read at all," he mused out loud, glancing at the sleeping girl.

"H'yeah, sneaky thing that one… tricked me right into it," Dean laughed out loud, a bit too raucously.

"Shh… you're going to wake her," Sam chided, casting a condemning look at his brother.

Stephanie remained asleep, despite their squabble, but what Dean hadn't realized earlier because his eyes were glued to the pages was that her rest wasn't quite as serene as it had been when he had first come in. She had that little crease of discomfort between her brows, her breaths coming out a little too harsh, sweat beading on her forehead.

"Maybe we _should_ wake her," he commented absentmindedly, running his hand through her hair. She was too warm, and when the response was a strangled little whimper as she leaned into his touch, he had made his decision. Dean had witnessed too many nightmares to not know when he saw one. "Baby girl, wake up, it's just a bad dream."

His gentle coaxing had no effect. Dean placed the back of his hand against her forehead. Definitely _way_ too warm. Burning hot.

"Come one, Stephanie, wake up," Dean shook her shoulder lightly. Still nothing. He tried harder, not seeming to work, but it was becoming more and more evident that rousing her was the best course of action because her distress started seeping through her slumbering features more and more in the form of little whines and scrunched up expressions on her face. As a last resort he gave her cheek a few little pats.

"Is that really necessary?" Sam asked in concern, but then at last the girl's eyes snapped open and she bolted right up into a sitting position, gasping for air, as she was seemingly unable to catch her breath, eyes darting around in alarm.

When Steph noticed Dean sitting beside her, she instantly grabbed onto his shirt, burying her face into his chest. At that moment she truly resembled a frightened or hurt animal, or a small child. At first the hunter didn't know how to react, then just held her tightly in his embrace, trying to calm her down.

"Shh… it's okay," Dean chanted, soothingly patting her hair. "Nothing is going to hurt you."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because her eyes shot wide open and she started to come close to hyperventilating.

"No… please… don't… wanna… go back there," she rasped in panic between breaths and coughs, her voice incredibly raw still, but with great struggle she managed to squeeze the syllables out audibly.

"Where, sweetie?" he tried gently, taking her face between his hands to get her attention, trying to understand what was upsetting her.

"To nothing," Steph replied in a daze, her eyes unable to focus fully. Dean had to assume it had something to do with the nightmare, and just rephrased his reassurance to match her mental state that was frazzled by her high temperature.

"I've got you, okay?" Dean repeated, unsure how much went through to her. "I'm not letting anything happen to you."

The girl just hung on tighter, like he was the lifeline keeping her from drowning. She was practically sitting in his lap by this point, which under different circumstances would have gotten Dean pretty excited, but at the moment the only thing his mind was focused on was trying to get her better.

"Give me the thermometer, Sam," the older brother instructed quietly after a few minutes, because honestly they had to address the core of the problem. Whatever got her so anxious was induced by the fever so getting it down should help. Stephanie was still not letting him go, muttering something under her breath but she was too hoarse for anyone to be able to make out what she was saying if she wasn't actively concentrating on communicating.

His words made her realize that there was someone else in the room too and that snapped her out of her agitation a bit. Dean guessed that in her dream she was all alone in some isolated place, and the reassurance of that not being the case in reality was somewhat helping.

"Sam…?" Steph whispered weakly.

"Right here," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed by Dean's legs with the requested thermometer in hand.

Stephanie slowly released her death grip on Dean and leaned onto Sam's shoulder, relief crushing through her when he hugged her to his side. Dean couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit jealous that his rock solid presence wasn't enough to comfort her, but if their combined efforts were what it took, then so be it.

She was shivering and shaking like a leaf despite the blanket that Dean pulled back up onto her shoulders as she shifted, and Sam vigorously rubbing her arm didn't help much either.

"Steph?" the younger Winchester murmured to her. "We really need to take your temperature."

The girl just glanced up listlessly, as if the meaning behind the words were lost on her, but opened up her mouth anyway when the thermometer was offered to her, then just rested her head back against Sam's neck, closing her eyes. The brothers shared a worried glance. This was so different from the Stephanie they had come to know and love. Independent, energetic and bubbly. Dean might have joked last night that she was a clingy sickie, but that seemed to be true tenfold at that moment. Not that they minded, it was just so alien that they weren't exactly sure how they should handle it.

The thermometer beeped finally, and Sam took it from her mouth.

"Shit," he exclaimed, noting the 104.2 reading. Dean snatched it from him, his expression going from wide-eyed astonishment to hard determination to do something about it.

"Cold bath. Now," the older brother stated, trying to shuffle out from under the girl and simultaneously passing her over fully to Sam.

"Actually it should be just tepid, 98 or so, normal body temperature warm," Sam remarked, remembering the time when Dean literally dumped him in ice water when he had an extreme fever during the Trials. Maybe the drastic measure was justified at that particular instance, but there was absolutely no need to put Stephanie through that. She was shivering as it was, and if it got any worse it would just raise her body temperature higher.

"If you are so freaking smart, WebMD, then do it yourself," Dean snapped, his base line aggravation caused by the Mark heightened drastically by the immense worry he was feeling for the girl.

"Here, take her," the younger brother replied calmly, not taking his bait to argue further.

"Don't fight…" Stephanie croaked, letting them pass her back and forth like a rag doll, resting her head against Dean now.

Sam promptly headed off to the bathroom to start the water, while Dean tried to wrestle her out of the sweatshirt. No wonder she was so overheated under all these layers. She was somewhat helping him, or at least not resisting his ministrations.

The older hunter suddenly had to suck in a breath when the hoodie finally did come off and all her bruises were now visible on her arms and neck. Dean even believed he caught a glimpse of one on her ribs before he could pull her tank top back down that had ridden up with the sweater.

The other thing he discovered at that moment was that Steph was not wearing a bra. His initial plan was to keep her in her underwear while they put her in the water, allowing her to keep some semblance of her modesty (that was almost like wearing a bikini right?), but that might just had to change to top and panties.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Sam returned, noticing in bewilderment as Dean was tugging Steph's yoga pants down.

"What do you think, asshat? Undressing her," Dean quipped, not stopping for even a second.

"Yeah, I can see that…" the younger Winchester commented, unsurely trailing off. This felt wrong on so many levels to him.

Truthfully Stephanie was somewhat aware of what was happening, but even if she wasn't, she trusted the boys to know that nothing sinister was going on, and the fever made all her self-consciousness vanish that would have made her feel embarrassed at the fact that Sam and Dean got to see her stomach and thighs, not to mention her panties. Vaguely she tried to remember which ones she had been wearing, but that piece of knowledge was lost to her at the moment.

"We are not leaving her in wet clothes afterwards, and wet yoga pants for one are a bitch to get off," he replied as a matter-of-fact as he gathered the now less clothed girl in his arms.

"I think the proper term would be leggings. And you know that how exactly?" Sam inquired with just a hint of amusement.

"Shut up," Dean huffed gruffly, remembering the very awkward start to sexy time with Kerrie Hannigan in high school (couldn't really remember which anymore, having attended too many over his teenage years) after a pool party mishap, and stepping around his giant of a brother to get to the bathroom. "Hopefully she will be lucid enough afterwards to change into dry clothes herself, though."

"And if she is not?" the younger hunter inquired worriedly.

"We will cross that bridge when we get to it," a slight look of horror crossed his face at that prospect. "Go get some towels," he instructed instead, and seemingly Sammy was happy to be doing something productive too, because he sprinted right out to accomplish the task.

Dean slowly lowered Stephanie into the water, and the moment her feet touched the surface she jerked back so hard that he had to readjust her hold on her.

"Cold…" she whimpered very quietly. He only heard because her face was practically right beside his ear.

"I know, I know it seems like it, but bear with it. You'll feel better afterwards," Dean murmured the simple reassurance, which did the trick. Stephanie trusted him, it was that simple.

Steph stiffened reflexively anyway when her body first made full contact with the water, bracing herself on Dean's arms for support, but after a minute she relaxed a little, as her fevered skin adjusted to the temperature. After another minute it actually felt so nice that she slid fully into it, even letting her hair get submerged. Thankfully Sam had the forethought to only fill the tub with a couple of inches of water, so there wasn't really a danger of drowning. Dean stayed with her the whole time anyway, keeping a watchful eye on her to make sure, parked squarely on the floor right on the other side of the tub.

* * *

About twenty minutes later she started to shiver again, since the water was getting too cold. But she really did feel somewhat better she noted mentally. Her thoughts didn't seem to be so elusive anymore.

"Come on, girl, up you go," Dean instructed, helping her up, handing her a big fluffy towel. Steph didn't even notice when Sam delivered those.

She swayed a little as she stood so Dean had to steady her as he wrapped another one loosely around her hair. The water running down her face combined with the coolness of the air made the side of her nose itch, and no matter how hard she tried to fight against it, eventually it flared into a full blown tickle.

" _Eh'Kshew… hi'kshsh… Hap'TSHOUM…_ ugh," she sneezed into the towel tiredly, sniffing loudly from the congestion that was starting to form in her nasal cavities. This cold, or whatever, was seeming to fully start kicking into gear, graduating from the mere throat symptoms. Just peachy.

"Okay, definitely time to get you dry," Dean remarked, scooping her into his arms in bridal style instead of risking her trying to step over the ledge of the bathtub.

" _htktngxch_ " a naturally stifled one escaped her, smothered right into Dean's chest as she was carried to the adjacent room.

"Bless," he offered absentmindedly as he set her down on the bed.

Sam had prepared a loose shirt and a pair of sweats for her to wear, along with some underwear too, which made Stephanie, now fully in charge of her mental faculties, to blush really hard, since that could have only meant that her crush had went through her underwear drawer.

Sam was nowhere to be seen though, just as the bowl of soup from the nightstand, which Steph had a vague recollection of having been there, so he was probably reheating that.

"Uhm… do you need help changing?" Dean inquired unsurely, totally ill at ease. She just shook her head, much to the hunter's relief. "I'll just be outside, holler if you need anything."

Stephanie made an unamused face at him. Very funny.

"Right, I'll come back in five? Will knock beforehand?" he suggested embarrassedly, darting out of the room when he noticed Steph's tiny smile at his awkwardness.

She untangled herself from the huge towel, shuddering when the room temperature hit her skin through her wet top, prompting her to shed that, along with her panties. They were plain white she now realized. At least not the worn out ones. Could have been worse, she decided, as far as this whole situation could have potentially played out.

Steph toweled herself off very quickly, desperately wanting into her fresh, warm clothes. She had just begun towel drying her hair when the knock came.

"Coming in!" Dean announced just to be safe, then shuffled back into her room, along with Sam, who was bringing her warmed up soup. Stephanie still wasn't too hungry though.

"Hey, good to see you responsive," Sam teased lightheartedly, coming to sit by her side, offering her the chicken noodle soup. "Want some?"

"Recheck her temperature first," Dean stated, concerned about that still despite the fact that obviously she wasn't delirious anymore.

Noting his mood, Stephanie complied without any fuss, finding the thermometer on the bedside table quickly. She thought she must have looked comical in her baggy clothes, towel on head and thermometer sticking out of her mouth, but no one was laughing. The state she was in just half an hour ago had been way too scary for the boys to take any of this lightly.

"102.5," she croaked when reading was done. Dean gestured for her to give it to him, wanting to check for himself. Not nearly good enough, but if she was functioning well and not too uncomfortable then it was fine he supposed.

"Use your notepad next time," Sam admonished, because really she should rest her voice. "Here, eat some of this."

Stephanie glanced at him warily, because even though it looked fine, she knew too much of his culinary skills to trust the appearance of food that came from him, and the last thing she needed on top of everything else was puking her guts out.

"Don't worry, it came from a can," Dean commented with a little snort, which earned him one of Sammy's bitch faces.

"Jerk," he breathed exasperatedly. "But yeah, I just heated it up. Twice."

Steph relaxed and gave Sam an apologetic smile, leaning into his side, mouthing _Thank you_.

Despite her lack of appetite she sipped on spoonful after spoonful of it under the watchful eyes of the boys, which was somewhat unnerving. Sam was fine, a comforting presence by her side, but Dean was standing there leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like a guard or something. She managed to finish about half of it before she was full, and hoped neither of them would object to her not finishing the meal.

Just as she was about to set her spoon down, her nose decided that it had reached its limit with the steam rising up from the bowl in her lap. Suddenly it was running, tickling all the way down the whole length of her poor sensitive sinuses.

" _Heh… Hi'sshoo… he'kshoo… hi'ktsh…_ " Steph sneezed desperately into the crook of her arm, turning away from Sam, trying very hard not to jerk forward too much with each spasm and slosh the soup out of the bowl on the tray.

The younger Winchester thankfully caught on quickly and snatched it from her, placing it into safety on the bedside table. After her fit she greedily reached for the tissue box, giving her nose a couple of good, wet blows.

"Okay, kiddo, hairdryer time," Dean ushered her to her feet when she managed to clean herself up.

And however weird that might sound he actually blow dried her hair, absolutely not letting her do anything, lest she got dizzy, and just ordered her to sit on the side of the counter while he did his thing. Times like these Dean adored the fact that Steph preferred shorter hairstyles, because five minutes were already too much to be doing this.

Her hair was of course in complete disarray, but it wasn't like she was planning on going out anywhere, and she definitely gave Dean an A in the caretaking effort. Steph just watched her hero as he concentrated on ruffling her hair from one side to the other under the constant current of hot air.

"All done," he declared suddenly, shutting the hairdryer off and running his hand through her now cooling hair one more time to check if there were any damp spots left.

Stephanie knew there weren't too many people in the whole wide world he would be willing to do that for, and she couldn't resist the urge to kiss him softly on the cheek as a thank you before hopping off from the counter to avoid the aftermath of her impulsive action.

In true Stephanie-style though, she of course stumbled on her landing as a dizzy spell hit her, and Dean had to catch her to avoid face planting on the cold tiles of the bathroom. As he yanked her back, she ended up face first in his broad chest, Dean holding her by the waist.

"Careful," he murmured, almost as breathily as she was feeling as he met her gaze. Steph just blinked, her mind completely blanking out in the moment. Dean cleared his throat uneasily after a few seconds. "Maybe I should just carry you everywhere, until you are better."

"Okay…" the purple haired girl squeaked in agreement, unable to respond in any other way to that.

The older hunter chuckled, the side of his green eyes creasing into a genuine smile that was oh so rare for him these days.

"Come on, princess," Dean lifted her again, like she weighed nothing, even though she knew it was quite the opposite.

Back in the room Sam had a very knowing smirk on his face as he watched Dean deliver their live in librarian back to her bed.

"I'm gonna let you guys get back to that book, it sounded fascinating," he stood with a wink, gathering the stuff from the nightstand that should be returned to the kitchen. Before he could leave, Stephanie grabbed her notepad, scribbling something down in haste.

 **Stay?** she shoved the note to him.

"I don't really think there's enough room for all of us on that bed," Sam protested with a quick glance to his brother, who had his brows furrowed again.

 **Movie in the library?** she wrote her next suggestion. The couches before the huge ass flat screen were pretty big there. They would be pretty comfortable there Stephanie assumed. And she was getting tired of being cooped up in her room anyway.

Sam passed the note to Dean to see what his opinion on the matter was, but he just cracked a smile at it after a while. Whatever that moment in the bathroom was, Stephanie seemed to handle them as a package deal. And maybe he had misread the situation, who knows. However catering to her every whim seemed to come to him as naturally as breathing, so he wasn't going to resist that urge for sure.

"Sure, pumpkin, whatever you want," the older Winchester said. "Take your meds, then we can go."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean, true to his promise, did not let Stephanie walk, declaring that until her fever was under a 101 degrees her unsteady feet were a danger to herself and the unsecured objects of the Bunker. Thinking back, maybe he hadn't meant it as a joke, but it got Steph laughing so hard that she ended up in a coughing fit. Honestly his overdone serious face cracked her up every time when applied to something so mundane, a situation that didn't hold nearly the gravity he was portraying. Dean tried to remain stone faced under her glee, but Steph saw that ghost of a smile lurk on the edges of his mouth, she wouldn't be fooled.

Without another word he scooped her up in his arms after she had downed her two cups of various liquid medications. At first she squawked in surprise, not quite ready for the manhandling despite the previous forewarning and almost struggled to be let down, but then just relaxed her head against Dean's muscular chest, wishing very much that her sense of smell wasn't so shot at the moment. She wanted to feel his familiar, comforting scent of body wash, leather with hints of gunpowder and motor oil. She had come to associate that with safety ever since he had carried her out of the basement of that abandoned farm house in a similar fashion five months ago, when she had been sucked too dry by vampires to make it out on her own two feet.

Unbidden, her mind flashed back to that place with its moldy walls and musty air. She had lost her voice then too, having screamed herself hoarse, yelling for help even though logically she knew that there wasn't anyone miles around to hear her. And then who knew how many days later, someone did come to her rescue, making a ruckus on the ground floor – machete swinging, chopping off heads left and right as she had found out later – and she struggled to make a sound so that whoever her savior was would realize that she was down there. Along with three other girls, who were already unconscious or dead by that time.

Dean's face had been hard and unyielding when he had found her, but for whatever reason she knew that she was safe. His green eyes just held something incredibly vulnerable under the many layers of defenses that had her instantly trusting him when he gathered her into his arms after she couldn't stay upright on her own.

"You okay there, Steph?" Sam asked as he glanced back over his shoulder and noticed that her eyes were scrunched closed. He had her pillow and other supplies – like tissues – with him, so that they could make her comfortable at her new "battle station" as he had called it.

She nodded faintly, not even opening her eyes, while she tried to brush off the last remnants of that memory. Out of the blue Dean bent down to press a kiss to her forehead, merely to assess her temperature, but that small gesture caused Steph's eyes to fly open wide and a blush creep up her neck. She ducked deep into the blanket she was cocooned in like a breakfast burrito to try and hide the evidence of her emotions from the boys.

"Maybe this excursion wasn't such a great idea. You still have one hell of a fever," the older Winchester mused out loud, stopping in the middle of the hallway, hard contemplative look on his face as he glanced between her and Sam, trying to decide what the best course of action would be.

Stephanie shot a pleading look to Sammy, practically begging for him to step in, since she had no way of communicating if she didn't want to strain her vocal chords. Even if she had the notepad, her hands were trapped under layers of blanket. She wanted to spend time with them instead of being cooped up in a 10 by 12 feet room.

"Cabin fever wouldn't do her much good either, Dean," he said finally, trying to keep a straight face, but failing miserably.

"Very punny, Sammy," Dean threw him an unamused glare, but ultimately kept on heading to the library.

"None intended," Sam's lips pulled up a quivering half-smirk as he sent a conspiratorial wink to Stephanie.

The girl chuckled, trying to disguise it as a soft cough when she caught Dean raising a brow at her. Dean always thought that these two seemed to have a secret language, bonding over geekiness and sometimes making fun of his reactions.

"I'm surrounded by preschoolers!" he sighed overdramatically with a roll of his eyes, earning himself a giggle, which had well damned pleased him.

" _eh'shiew_ " Steph sneezed suddenly, without warning into her blanket, hoping that she didn't spray Dean. She really didn't want him catching whatever she had. Though interesting question, if the Mark wouldn't let him die, would it also prevent him from catching diseases? Honestly not an experiment she wanted to conduct.

"Bless you," the boys replied seriously in chorus, which honestly cracked her up again. Sometimes they were too much in synch to bear.

* * *

In the library somehow she ended up with her head in Sam's lap on a pillow, while Dean gathered her feet into his lap, and absentmindedly began rubbing her soles at some point during the movie, working careful, tentative circles into her skin.

Stephanie didn't protest. It was actually quite nice, if not a bit unexpected from Dean. He had never causally touched her before yesterday. No hugs, no kisses to the forehead, no running his hand through her hair or anything. Now all that and more had happened within a 24 hour period and Steph wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

They were always on good terms, don't get her wrong, Dean just wasn't the chick flick moment kind of guy, and the Mark had made him even less open about his emotions both verbally and physically so she had been told by Sam. Either some kind of protective instinct kicked in with Steph being ill and all, or he was still trying to atone for that sparring mishap, where the Mark's influence got the better of him. She really wanted to find out if he was still beating himself up about it, but bringing the subject up would have royally fucked up this moment, and it was just too peaceful to do that.

Steph tried to focus on the horror movie before her with bleary eyes between coughs and sniffles, but honestly it wasn't catching her attention, she couldn't even remember the title of it. Dean found this "masterpiece" as he was flicking through the channels saying that it would be almost like watching a comedy, the monster was so ridiculous.

That one he got absolutely right. Steph wanted to just salt and burn the heck out of it and be done already, and just screamed internally at the characters for doing the dumbest shit. After a while she just mentally checked out of the movie and began to catalogue all the monsters she knew about and how they could be killed, what their weaknesses were, reciting the different exorcisms and spells she had memorized so far to keep them fresh. Realistically she knew that probably she would never have the chance to utilize them but better be safe than sorry.

Suddenly Sam's huge paw of a hand brushed back the hair from the side of her face, and she glanced up questioningly. Even after he had gotten her attention he kept the physical contact, partially because he was checking her fever – no worse than before thankfully – but the fact that she seemed to enjoy his touch, leaning into it, prompted him to provide that comfort if she so craved it.

"Did you fall asleep?" he asked in a whisper and Steph wondered what that was all about before shaking her head slightly in response. Sam just flicked his head to the side towards Dean and she realized that contrary to her, the older Winchester was snoozing with his head lolled to the back of the sofa.

The girl just now noticed that his hands had stilled on her feet at some point. Good for him, he needed his rest. Stephanie knew for a fact that he rarely got more than four hours a night. That also meant that she had free reign over the remote now, so she snatched it from behind her where Dean had stashed it.

Late afternoon TV programs sucked ass in general, how that one horror movie was airing at this time of day Steph couldn't explain either. And then she stumbled into FUNimation. She like never actually watched TV, opting for Netflix and her laptop if she wanted anything particular, so she hadn't realized what a great cable package the boys had.

By the second frame she knew what show was on and her mouth curled into a fond smile.

"Please tell me that's not porn," Sam groaned quietly as he realized that Stephanie was intending to stay on that channel, knowing that Dean sometimes watched Japanese animated skin flicks that looked just like this, though he couldn't imagine what could be so great about drawn octopus monster sex.

Stephanie gave him a startled, bewildered face for even suggesting that, then snatched his phone from the arm rest above her head to type her outraged reply. Why they hadn't thought of this method earlier she didn't know, it was way more comfortable than writing in that notepad. And maybe a bit faster too. Her phone was still in her room, but they could get that later, for now Sam's was a perfect substitute.

 **Don't ruin my childhood, this is ABSOLUTELY NOT hentai, just as not every movie is rated XXX** , she tossed the phone angrily behind her to him and Sam scrambled to catch it without jostling her too much.

"My apologies. What's the show about?" Sam cleared his throat uneasily as he read, apologetic smile tugging at his lips as he handed the device back to her.

Damn, he knew how to defuse a situation well, just had to appeal to her geeky side and Stephanie wouldn't be able resist going into hyper fan mode, grinning the whole way while she typed out her response. Especially since it was just way too ironic to not share with the boys.

 **Two brothers, who lost their mother at a young age, with an absentee father, searching for something, willing to sacrifice anything for the other, having to fight monsters along the way to save the world** , she wrote quickly, passing back the phone before smothering two quick sneezes into her blanket.

" _eh'kshew… hisshoo…_ "

"No, seriously," the younger Winchester frowned at her, because honestly that felt like a description of their lives. Painfully spot on.

"I'm serious!" Steph croaked out indignantly, appalled that he wouldn't believe her.

"Okay, okay, just give your throat some slack," Sam backtracked seeing her hurt expression, rubbing her back comfortingly.

 **Look up Fullmetal Alchemist if you don't believe me** , Steph handed the phone back, getting herself immersed in Ed and Al's adventures, chuckling every time Ed's height or his hate for milk was mentioned in some way. He was in the hospital after the Lab 5 incident, injured, how very apt.

"Is the shorter the older brother?" Sam asked after a while as he watched the dialogues unfold. He did find a summary for the anime, and yes essentially Steph's assessment was true. It felt almost as weird as learning about the Supernatural books.

Stephanie nodded, grinning like a madman to herself. Oh the feels this series had brought her in her teens when the original adaptation of it aired. Though if you asked her the manga and Brotherhood had a more compelling storyline.

"At least Dean doesn't make a fuss about that," a low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned back to immerse himself in the episode.

 **So he isn't calling you a Sasquatch?** she asked with a snort, grabbing the phone for the arm rest again where Sam had put it after he was done researching.

"Yes, but you know… he isn't that short either, so it doesn't bother him that I'm taller," Sam made a face, suddenly uncertain of that fact.

 **Keep telling yourself that Sam** , Steph patted him sympathetically on the leg, settling back on her pillow. No really, Dean didn't mind, he just liked teasing him, and Stephanie enjoyed this little prank of making Sam think otherwise. The corners of his mouth dropped in an exaggerated, pouty manner, as if he had lost his shoe or something, cracking her up, after which he couldn't resist to smile either.

Stephanie could actually relate to Ed, she was just over 5'3, everyone was practically taller than her, but she guessed that as girl it just made her cute, whereas boys took it like a blow to their pride or something.

She was starting to feel drowsy again, helped along by Sam's quiet ministrations of rubbing her scalp. It was seriously doing wonders to her headache. That small bubble of bliss couldn't last forever though. The loud ringing of Sam's phone snapped her back to alertness, making Dean stir from his sleep too.

"Yeah?" Sam picked up, listening intently to the other end of the line.

"Who's that?" Dean barked in groggy irritation.

" _Rudy_ ," Sam mouthed to him.

 _Another hunter… that could only mean…_ Steph groaned, knowing where this was going. She sat up slowly to give space to Sam in case they had to leave quickly, willing the sudden dizziness away and just leaned back against the couch as she waited for the situation to unfold.

"A revenant? You sure?" Sam inquired with furrowed brows, humming and nodding as he listened to the problem at hand.

 _Those are quite rare_ , Stephanie thought, wondering how the hell he managed to run into one.

"Give me that!" Dean impatiently snatched the phone after two minutes, when their fellow hunter was still running his mouth. "Just pin the fucker down with silver, then make them realize that they are dead."

Stephanie raised a brow at his brusque tone. Not that it was uncharacteristic of him, but something got him really riled up, and a phone call for hunting assistance really couldn't be it.

"What do you mean silver doesn't work? Then it's not a revenant, did you do your research?" the older Winchester snapped again, Steph and Sam just sharing a look.

A few moments later Dean just sighed exasperatedly, as if relenting to some unavoidable turn of events.

"Where are you at?... Wichita, okay, got it, will be there in 3 hours," he quickly ended the call then hauled himself to his feet, turning to Sammy. "Stay here, take care of Steph, gotta go see what Rudy has mucked up."

"Don't you need back up?" Sam tentatively asked, uneasily glancing at the girl next to him. He didn't want to leave Steph here alone, ill, but he wasn't too comfortable with letting Dean hunting on his own with the Mark and everything either.

"I'll be… fine," Steph cut in, trying to get their attention, her voice miserably cracking, sending herself into a coughing fit, which was honestly not helping her case. Sam just handed her the phone with a disapproving bitch face.

 **Seriously guys go do your job I can look after myself for a few hours** , Steph typed. Even though she didn't want to be left all alone in the Bunker, realistically she knew this was much more important. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. That was their motto. Not babysitting sick librarians.

"And if your fever spikes again? Have a nightmare like last time?" Dean challenged her gruffly, but under all that grouchy huff all Steph could see was the genuine concern for her well-being, and it melted her heart.

 **You know I have lived on my own for years and been sick in that time. Without anyone to take care of me. And I'm still alive, aren't I?** she quipped back, because as sweet at that gesture was, she wasn't a kid and didn't need to be treated as one.

Steph could see his reluctance, the inner battle between his instincts, and she just turned to Sam prompting him go and take Dean with him with a nod of her head towards the door.

"Are you sure?" Sam checked just one last time.

" _Yes!_ " she mouthed insistently, waving them off.

"Do you need anything before we go?" he inquired, his eyes flicking between her and the stuff on the coffee table.

Steph just looked at him with a quirked brow, saying _Does it look like it?_ as she gestured at the boxes of tissues, bottles of medicine, thermometer and everything all laid out before her. She was all set up to stay on that couch until they returned.

"Okay, okay, we are going," the taller Winchester relented finally, pushing a very unhappy and reluctant Dean out the door of the library.


	5. Chapter 5

When she was all alone Stephanie sighed as she assessed the situation. Being alone when sick seriously sucked. And she didn't even have her phone! She groaned with the realization, letting herself fall back defeatedly on her pillow, noting that it wasn't quite as comfortable without the added height of Sam's thighs underneath it.

Even the FMA episode ended, and some majou shoujo nonsense came on afterwards that Steph absolutely did not have the patience for at the moment, so she just frowned at the screen, cursing her bravado in pushing both of the Winchesters out the door. Yes, she was feeling very moody and broody at that moment, and just wanted to wallow in the abyss of self-pity at how miserable she felt.

Without the distractions that the boys provided the weight of all her symptoms, the fever, the sore throat, the stuffiness, the aching all crashed down on her suddenly.

She was startled out of her spiraling inner torment when the library door burst open again, Dean stomping through, and crouching down before her.

"Your phone. Call, text if anything happens, if you feel worse, or anything," he instructed as he handed over her cell in a no nonsense matter. She was only able to nod automatically in shock. Firstly at the sudden turn of events, like Dean just knew exactly when to show up, secondly at the fact that he was willing to let her interrupt them in whatever dangerous situation they might get into. That was just plain reckless.

Dean frowned as he looked her over, displeased by her sudden sullen mood, but chalked it up to discomfort due to her illness. "Take some more meds in two hours, baby girl," the older Winchester told her, his hand brushing back her hair one last time as he gave her a quick peck on the forehead, then he was gone as fast as he came.

Stephanie was again left in a whirlwind of various emotions she just did not know what to do with. She obviously meant a lot to the boys, but why they cared so much she didn't know. It's not like she was awfully useful beyond her bookishness as a hunter, and was generally a liability, someone that could be held against the Winchesters if she ever got captured.

No need to say that she rarely left the Bunker, usually only with an escort, although that didn't bother her at all. She always felt more comfortable in her own little world rather than interacting with strangers or going out, and doing _stuff_. Guess being a librarian was great for that, she could get lost in organizing shelves of books for hours, sometimes even wandering off to read in a nook if they didn't get much business that day. Her new life catered even more to her introverted nature while keeping the basic characteristics of the job the same.

She started shivering so she pulled the blanket closer in around her neck, while mindlessly flicking through channels to see if there was anything worth watching. Not so much. After a while she just turned it off, shifting onto her back with a sigh.

Steph glanced at the clock. Only an hour had passed. Sam and Dean were still in the Impala en route, out of harm's way for now, which she was glad for. Secretly she always worried a bit when they went out if they would ever return.

She was bored, so, so bored, it wasn't even funny, but at the same time she had zero energy to do anything. She curled up on her side, facing the back of the couch and tried to sleep a bit, despite the lights being on, humming slightly on the ceiling.

And then her bladder intervened. Ugh. She hated being sick, the tea and everything always threw the waterworks into higher gear. She slowly scooted to the end of the sofa, sitting up sluggishly, staying put until she was sure the walls would stay in their rightful place. She absolutely loathed feeling this weak and dizzy.

Hugging her blanket tightly around her with one hand, hanging onto her phone with the other, she shuffled off to the nearest bathroom, sometimes catching herself on the wall when she almost stumbled face first into the floor. Dean had a point. Steph was way too unsteady on her feet for comfort. Good thing the hallways didn't have anything she could knock over.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, assessing her appearance with a quirked brow. She had a serious case of bedhead going on, and her nostrils were starting to look really red with all the nose blowing and rubbing she had been doing. Somewhere deep down she was glad Sam and Dean didn't have to witness this for a little while now.

Reemerging from the bathroom she ran into someone she was absolutely not expecting. Quite literally almost ran into him. The tall, dark haired figure was standing in the doorway right on the other side of the door, and Steph got within an inch of falling face first into his chest, before she caught herself wobblingly on the doorframe.

"Cas," she breathed, barely more than a whisper as she realized with relief that it wasn't an intruder. Getting into the Bunker without invitation was nigh impossible, probably only blasting the heavy metal door off its hinges would do it, but you never knew. Paranoia could save your life. Not that at this moment she would have been able to do anything to defend herself, paranoia or no paranoia.

She rarely got to meet the angel, but she cherished every moment of it when she did, his minute quirks always bringing a smile to her face as they discussed the greater things in life. He had told her once how much he appreciated their talks since Sam and Dean, but especially Dean, weren't that open to topics besides the nitty, gritty specifics of business they had at that specific moment.

"Hello, Stephanie. Where is Dean?" he asked with that constipated frown of his that he got when something didn't quite go according to his expectations, sensing that the older Winchester was not within the facility.

She held up a finger for him to wait a moment as she quickly typed her answer on her phone, struggling to keep her blanket from slipping off her shoulders as she did so.

 **On his way with Sam to Wichita on a case** , she showed him the message for him to read.

"Strange. He called me to, quote on quote, get my lazy ass to the Bunker right away. Why would he leave? It sounded urgent," the angel mused out loud confusedly, not even picking up on the fact that her written communication should have been considered weird or at least should have prompted a question out of him as to the reason behind it.

 **When was this?** Steph asked because honestly sometimes Castiel popped in days after an urgent prayer or message, or not at all, so those two narrowly missing each other wouldn't have been a surprise.

"Just now, not even an hour ago. I was in the vicinity," his blue eyes finally rested on her for more than a fraction of a second, assessing her. "You are ill."

And suddenly everything made sense to Steph. Dean called Cas to babysit or heal her, or something. She had to laugh out loud, because that was such a blatant abuse of their friend's capabilities that it wasn't even funny. At the same time so very Dean.

Laughing, of course, turned into a coughing fit, which led to lightheadedness and Cas had to help her back to the couch in the library, because she would have probably collapsed in a heap on the cold stone floor if she had to stay upright for another second.

Once she got settled and her breathing under control, she kept on typing.

 **Lost my voice, sorry for the awkward communication**

"I can see that," the angel nodded in agreeance, thinking for a moment before continuing. "I believe Dean's urgent demand for assistance was regarding your situation."

 **Cas, I know you don't have your own angel mojo, I can't ask this of you, I'll be fine in a few days**

As far as she knew these days Castiel was off with Metatron as his captive to find his grace and who knows what else. Where he stashed the rouge scribe of God so he wouldn't be able to escape while Cas returned to the Bunker to tend to Dean's whims, she didn't know.

"My supply of power is adequately high right now, this would not drain me in a significant way," Castiel informed her very matter-of-factly, seemingly wanting nothing more than to help. It pained her heart that he would do so out of the need for penance or something without any regard to his own well-being.

Before she could give any kind of answer, her nose decided to play a little trick on her again, hitching her breath, and she turned away from him as the sneezing fit claimed her.

" _Hi'kshoo… ehksh… hiksh… heh'tshoo…_ " she practically curled in on herself with her hands pressed to her face, trying to somewhat contain their force, because her ribs were hurting with every spasm. The tickle did not dissipate though, and she kept her awkward position as she waited out the sensation to grow in intensity to the point at which she could find release.

Cas placed a comforting hand on the middle of her back as he sensed her pain, which also allowed him to examine her condition even more carefully.

"Stephanie, you are also bruised in multiple regions of your body, and your loss of voice in not due to your illness but major physical trauma to your windpipe. What happened?" he knew how preciously Sam and Dean guarded her, and wouldn't have left anyone lay a hand on her without retaliation, so the manner in which this event could have come to realization baffled him.

" _Hep'tshew…ugh_ " she sneezed one final time before blowing her nose and finally getting to formulate her response.

 **Sparring got a bit out of hand because I was coming down with this but hadn't realized it then yet**

"Sparring?" the angel inquired confusedly.

 **You know… training, learning how to fight** , Steph elaborated sheepishly.

"Yes, I understand that. Who were you sparring with, Stephanie?" his low gravelly voice practically demanded the truth out of her.

Steph hesitated for a while just staring at her phone, because honestly she didn't want Cas to be angry with Dean. He wasn't in control, it was the Mark, and she never should have asked him to teach her that morning, but the longer she waited the less she believed she would be able to come up with an acceptable answer that was still truthful.

"Dean hurt you," Cas said, and not as a question, his features furrowing further as he glanced away, disappointment and anguish over the rate Dean has been succumbing to the Mark evident.

This wasn't the first time something like this happened, they both knew. Charlie's evil side got practically beaten to a pulp by Dean when she got back from Oz, even though he knew everything he did transferred to the other half of her too. Charlie forgave him, but Steph knew it still ate away at him, just as this instance would. Especially since in this situation there wasn't any real danger to Dean, back then at least the whole thing could have been somewhat rationalized away with evil Charlie really trying to kill him, and even that was a very weak excuse.

Stephanie didn't respond. There wasn't any need to, the truth was plain as day without confirmation. After a few moments of deliberation Castiel raised his hand and placed two fingers against the girl's forehead, not waiting for her final permission.

"Cas…" she rasped in alarmed protest. She did not want to be healed at the cost of draining Cas's remaining grace, however insignificant he thought the amount was, but by the time she opened her mouth the process was already practically done.

Stephanie could feel all her aches and pains, the general lethargy and fever draining away from her. She enveloped Castiel in an unexpected hug around the neck, letting her blanket fall off her shoulders in the process.

"You really didn't need to do that, but thank you, you reckless, stubborn, self-sacrificing angel," she murmured gratefully against his neck, not caring how stiffly Cas sat there or how awkward the whole situation was.

"You are welcome," he said after a few seconds, patting her on the back hesitantly.

Steph giggled at his demeanor as she pulled back, and was happy to find that there was a tiny bit of a smile on his face.

"I must get going," Cas stated, raising from the couch abruptly, a bit unsure as to how to act around the girl from this point forward.

"Yes. Of course," she nodded understandingly, craning her neck to look up at him. It still blew her mind that Dean believed that sick librarians took priority over whatever other business Cas might have had.

"Take care of yourself," he said, turning serious again. "For Sam and Dean's sake."

He stalked out of the library without another word, trench coat billowing behind him, and yet again Steph sat there wondering what that could possibly have been about.

"O-okay…" Steph mumbled a minute later, apparently to no one.

* * *

The boys didn't get back till the crack of dawn on the next day. Steph was already up bustling away in the kitchen, doing dishes and stuff, when she heard them, having entirely too much energy between practically sleeping all day for almost two days in a row and having been healed to a level of fitness she wasn't sure she ever had before in her life.

"Hey, guys," she beamed enthusiastically at the brothers, coming out to meet them just as they were descending on the stairs from the entrance.

"Hey! You are much better," Sam exclaimed happily, hugging her even though he was covered in dirt and mud, sort of drenched but his clothes already drying somewhat. She didn't mind. She was just glad to see them in one piece and so soon.

"At least Cas came through for once," Dean grunted, pushing past them, heading towards his room. He looked similarly abused by the elements.

"What happened?" Stephanie inquired, looking between them with a puzzled expression.

"Wait, what do you mean Cas came through?" the younger Winchester called after his brother's retreating back, getting no answer from him.

"Cas showed up yesterday after you guys left. Apparently Dean called him to get to the Bunker as fast as he could," the girl explained instead, mildly peeved still.

"To heal you?" Sam asked for clarification.

"Yeah, well, that bit only became evident to him once he was already here," she revealed sardonically.

"Huh," he huffed, equally taken aback by those turn of events, but more for being kept out of the loop. The idea in itself didn't bother him that much, he trusted Cas to know what he could or couldn't take, and he was happy that she didn't have to suffer through this any longer.

"What's with him seriously?" Steph asked, worriedly glancing behind her back where Dean had disappeared. He seemed more moody than usual.

"I don't know. I mean the case turned out to be an angiak… which is… you know…" the younger brother trailed off with a grim expression.

"Yikes," she agreed, wincing.

According to lore an angiak is a child of the living dead, created when a family abandons a child in harsher conditions and it comes back as a vengeful spirit, animating its former body, haunting and feeding off that specific family. Sort of like a vampiric revenant, so that would explain Rudy's confusion. Heartbreaking just all round. Having to save a family who could do such a thing. Makes you question who the bad guy is really.

"So yeah, there's that, but I'm not sure that's it," Sam summarized, a bit at a loss himself.

Suddenly he inhaled sharply, turning to the side to smother a thundering sneeze into his elbow.

" _HE'KRSHOUM_ … excuse me," he mumbled apologetically, just as surprised as Steph was.

"Oh-oh," the girl sighed. "I think I know what's going on. Hot shower for you, mister, right this second," she tutted, somewhere between admonishing and guilty, pushing the much taller guy towards the hallway leading to his room.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam was grinning amusedly as the tiny girl steered him along the way to his room, like a mother hen ushering her chicks. He wasn't putting up a fight at all, but couldn't really understand what the whole fuss was about.

"Relax, Steph, I'm fine, it was just a sneeze," he tried to placate her as he was dragged in through his bedroom door.

"Right, because in the five months I've known you I have heard you sneeze exactly how many times? That's right! Zero!" Steph fretted, in a sardonic bubble of nervous energy. "Now, less talking and more stripping out of damp clothes," she emphasized her urgency with some wild hand gestures pointing to all those layers of clothing that stood between Sam and the shower she wanted him to get into already.

"When did you get so bossy?" Sam mock demanded with a snort, but began shedding his jacket and plaid shirt anyway.

"When I realized I might have gotten my boys sick," the girl mumbled in guilt so quietly that the tall man couldn't quite catch it. The blush that crept up on her face when she realized what she had just said – _her boys…_ since when did she have ownership over them?… – did catch his attention though.

"Are you going to stand there and watch?" he teased with a chuckle, totally misreading the cause of her embarrassment, and began taking off the Henley he had been wearing to reveal a well-defined six pack, the V shape of his hips underneath guiding her line of sight straight to the edge of his jeans, leaving the rest up to imagination…

Stephanie was bright scarlet red by now as she caught her train of thought. She snapped her eyes up, but that didn't help matters much either because even though she tried to focus on his face, his chest with that anti-possession tattoo sitting above his heart was equally appealing to look at and was hovering at the edge of her field of vision.

"Uhm… I'm gonna just… you know… just dump your wet clothes in a heap by the door, I'll come back and get them to start a batch of laundry…" Steph rambled on at a fast pace, almost spluttering, averting her gaze bashfully, trying to find an escape from the situation when suddenly Sam stepped closer to her, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders.

"Deep breaths, I was just messing with you," the younger Winchester tried to reassure her with a small smile, noticing her oncoming panic.

"Oh," she exhaled the breath she didn't even know she was holding, half disappointed, half relieved.

"And for the record, I used to have really bad seasonal allergies as a kid, still kind of do occasionally, so I do sneeze plenty, just not indoors usually," Sam added in a lighthearted tone, further lessening the weight of the earlier incident.

Stephanie tried to imagine that, Sam vulnerable and helpless as a sneezing fit claimed him, unable to fight back the urge to expel those tiny irritants from his nose, over and over again. Maybe she was predisposed to feel that way because her body was already on a hormonal high, but she found that sort of _hot_! And she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms, murmuring inconsequential nothings into his ear to soothe him while he succumbed. She gulped, unable to break away from that fantasy, closing her eyes for a moment to avoid looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

To make matters worse, she felt Sam's posture go rigid for a moment. Afraid that he had read all her thoughts from her face she snapped her eyes open, only to witness his mouth go slack, eyes going into a slight daze just as he wrenched away from her, burying his face into his shoulder.

" _HUH'rtshshshsh-um"_ his sneeze reverberated the whole room, effectively snapping Steph back to her main concern. His well-being.

"Still think it's a fluke?" she asked with a quirked brow, her sass back on full force. "Go get yourself warmed up."

With that she stepped out of his hold, picking up the clothes he had already shed, and fled from the scene before he could even say thank you.

As the door closed behind her she paused, leaning against it, trying to get her bearings together with a loud sigh. _Get your fucking mind out of the gutter! He doesn't see you that way. Neither of them do._

She stalked off towards the laundry room with a new found purpose, tossing the soiled bunch of fabric into the washer before heading towards Dean's to see if she needed to worry about his health too. Sure as hell she wouldn't let him brush off her concerns or hide his illness from her!

Her boldness ran out of its fuel just outside of his door, hesitation seeping into her bones as she stood there, about to knock. Generally it was best to leave Dean alone when he really got into a mood, and Steph really didn't want to annoy him any further than necessary. On the other hand, she really didn't want to let him suffer alone either if he was unwell. She took a big breath and knocked despite her inner turmoil and indecision.

"Dean?" she called out when she didn't get an answer.

Tentatively she opened the door and found that he was nowhere in sight, but also heard that the shower was running. _Good, he was taking care of himself without needing nudging._ Steph found his clothes dumped all over the floor, having landed wherever as he shed them along the way to his bathroom.

She bent down and picked up each and every one of them, wondering for a moment how the boys managed without a woman's touch before. True, permanence was a rare treat in their lives, and living from motel room to motel room didn't really require them to pay attention to the general state of their surroundings. Just had to toss their stuff into their duffels when they had to move on, occasionally finding a laundromat to wash everything they owned at once.

She was operating on auto-pilot as her mind meandered, only realizing that the water had been shut off and that Dean was standing in the now opened doorway to the bathroom right in front of her, clad in just a towel held in place by one hand at his front as she straightened up from picking up the last article of clothing, incidentally his boxer briefs.

Steph felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment under his watchfully knit brows as if she had been caught red-handed, doing pervy things or something. The fact that she was once again flashed with a toned, muscly, broad chest didn't help alleviating that feeling either, since she just couldn't stop her eyes from following a droplet of water as it ran down his skin from the hollow of his clavicle all the way down to his navel, where it suddenly disappeared.

Heat pooled deep inside her belly, and she cursed inwardly at her utter lack of self-control.

"Got anything else for the washer?" she tried to go for nonchalance but her voice was just a smidge too high to pull off the bluff that nothing was going on in her mind.

Dean just kept on staring with an unreadable expression.

"Everything okay with you? I think Sam is coming down with a cold," Stephanie inquired to steer the conversation elsewhere, now her expression furrowing too, although in worry instead of whatever analysis was running through Dean's thoughts.

His silence was starting to become very disconcerting and Steph shifted the pile of clothes in her arms to free one of her hands, reaching up to check his forehead. He was just a tad on the warmer side, which could very well have been due to the hot shower he had just taken, but what got her surprised was the way he leaned into her touch, eyes closing appreciatively at the skin to skin contact.

Steph was pretty convinced that he wasn't feeling so hot. There just wasn't any other explanation she could come up with that could account for his strange behavior.

"How about you get cozy in bed, and I'll be back in a sec with something to make you feel better after I started a load?" she suggested softly, her thoughts returning to strictly caretaker mode. The boys needed her.

Dean grabbed her hand and spun her around her heel with ease, hugging her to his chest with one arm as he buried his face into her hair behind her ear.

"Then don't go anywhere," he huskily sighed, a touch of raw need and vulnerability seeping through his tough façade. The way she had looked at him just now, it really did things to him.

Stephanie's posture instinctively sagged against him, letting their forms fold around each other like two pieces of a puzzle. Like all good things, she was sure this wouldn't last. The moment was unexpectedly shattered as he jerked his head away, stifling two sneezes towards his shoulder.

" _H'gnxt… huh'kgxtsh_ " his scowl seemed even deeper when he finally emerged.

Steph raised her hand against his stubble, stroking his cheek affectionately.

"Dean," she began in a sweet but firm tone. "Put something on before you catch your death."

His minute confusion caused by her abrupt change in demeanor gave Steph just enough time to escape with the laundry.

* * *

This time she didn't stop outside, just practically sprinted to drop off her load before running back to Sam's room, hoping that she could gather his stuff too before he got out of the shower. She wasn't sure her heart could handle another scene like this.

For once Steph was in luck. She was in and out within a couple of seconds, not letting herself get caught up in her thoughts until she was well clear of the brothers. The laundry room seemed like the perfect place for reflection while she loaded everything in, along with the detergent, and fiddled with the settings.

She knew that she was being absurd and that she should make up her mind already, but damn, both of the Winchesters made her knees go weak. Everything was fine and dandy until they had started showing open physical affection for her. She had been content on hiding her true emotions, locking them away to a deep, deep part of her psyche. But she wasn't sure she could control herself much longer if they kept getting so handsy with her.

"Steph?" Sam ducked into the room, making her jump with a shrieking yell, getting completely caught off guard.

"Geez, don't do that to me," she spun around, willing her heart rate to drop back into its normal range. The boys were way too good at silently sneaking up on her. Either that or she was way too distracted and needed to get her head back in the game.

He was wearing an old T-shirt and some sweats that hung just oh so deliciously on his hips. _Dammit, Stephanie! Focus!_

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, but was also trying very hard not to laugh at her reaction. "I just saw that the clothes were gone and hoped to catch you before you started the cycle."

Sam leaned in, almost brushing against her side and dropped another two pairs of socks into the drum of the washing machine behind her back. Steph couldn't get the feeling out of her head that he was doing that on purpose.

"Great!" she twisted back around to start the program, and also to avoid eye contact. "Do you need anything? Tea? Breakfast? Eggs and bacon? Waffles?"

"Those all sound great."

"You should go lie down, and I'll just be a sec," Steph asserted, gripping the side of the washer to ground herself.

"Steph, I'm fine, really," Sam insisted, though he did have a tinge of gravelly quality to his voice.

And then something occurred to her. Maybe they were just trying to avoid burdening her, or too proud to let themselves be cared for, or didn't even know what that would feel like or how to accept it. The realization clawed into her heart tightly.

"I know," the girl replied quietly, still not facing him. "I know you guys have dealt with much bigger things, and a little cold won't kick you on your asses. But just let me take of _you_. For once."

Sam stayed quiet for a few moments and Stephanie could just imagine his contemplative gaze aimed at the back of her head.

"Okay," he relented, leaving the room, but not before ruffling Steph's hair at the back of her head, and she couldn't help but simper at that, catching his eyes as he walked out the door on her left.

* * *

Stephanie gave herself another few minutes to find her equilibrium then strutted out to return to Dean. She had promised after all.

"Do eggs and waffles sound good to you for breakfast?" she ducked her head in after a quick knock, finding Dean in bed, eyes closed, and arms crossed, apparently dosing off.

The girl stepped in further, approaching his bed quietly to see if he had really fallen asleep. He looked anything but restful, the crease between his eyes and forehead prominent. Steph crouched down by his head, running her fingers through his hair. Definitely too warm. He was running at least a low-grade fever.

Dean's eyes suddenly flew open, and he grabbed her hand roughly before realizing that it was just her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Steph said quietly as he relaxed his hold, keeping her calm even though his jumpy reaction did almost kick in her flight or fight response too. "I was about to make breakfast, want some?"

"Mhm, yeah, you're a godsend, woman," he grunted, already shifting to get out of bed.

"Stay, I'll bring it to you," the purple haired girl placed a hand against his shoulder haltingly, being met with a fierce glare as a response.

"Not an invalid," Dean huffed, shrugging out from under her touch and sitting up. He was wearing an old, ratty AC/DC shirt, which Steph had to admit was a good look on him.

"I know," she chuckled at her earlier assessments being spot on. "But would you let me take care of you if I told you it would make me happy?"

"I can take care of myself, go wait on Sammy," the older Winchester snit in annoyance, knowing that his little brother had been sniffling all the way home in the Impala too.

"I know, and don't you worry I will, but I'm telling you that you trusting me to take care of you would make me very happy… and useful… and all kinds of wonderful, so just relax, and let yourself be taken care of for once," Steph met him head on with a passion. This she was familiar with. This she could handle. The moodiness. The brush off. You just have to stay your ground and appeal to his selfless side, make it sound like _he_ was doing _you_ a favor. It's when he suddenly does a 180 and becomes all affectionate that throws her off.

He scowled at her for a few moments, though undoubtedly not protesting.

"I am not getting food delivered in bed," he stated finally, his terms nonnegotiable.

"That I can compromise with," her grey eyes twinkled with mirth before she continued in a hushed tone. "For now."

"I heard that," Dean grimaced in discontent, his expression then suddenly going slack, and he pinched his nose between his fingers, stifling a silent sneeze. " _hgnxxnsht_ "

"Don't stifle them like that, you'll hurt your ears," Steph admonished in a motherly fashion.

"Habit," the hunter shrugged.

"I know, but you are not out in the field right now. Nothing is going to find and kill you if you sneeze loudly," the girl reasoned as she placed a comforting hand on his knee.

As if just to give him a chance to see her point his breath hitched again, and for once he heeded the advice. To be honest his earlier sneezes were aggravating his headache way too much, and he craved some relief since stifling usually did nothing to alleviate the itch.

" _Hih'YISHOOO-uh_ " Dean let the rumbling sneeze loose to the side uncovered. It really did feel a lot better.

"Bless you," she murmured, patting him on the leg. "Come on, tiger, breakfast awaits."


	7. Chapter 7

They of course never got around to discussing what had happened when he came out of the shower, for which Steph was infinitely grate for. Although Dean's standoffish demeanor as he shrugged on his grey house robe told her that he wasn't overly happy with something. With his reservations regarding her caretaking role seemingly resolved she could only guess that it was about the way his advances were shrugged off earlier.

That made her think… Could he really be into her? Or was he just taking advantage of the fact that she was obviously into him? Dean was definitely the ladies' man, and wasn't shy to hook up with anyone, anywhere, but in this particular instance things would get real awkward real fast if that was all this was to him.

Steph shook off those thoughts quickly, not wanting to dwell on them any further. Besides, her heart wasn't solely his either. This situation would just get all three of them hurt if acted on, and she wasn't planning that.

Entering the kitchen she could smell the aroma of coffee brewing, and – surprise, surprise – there was Sam sitting by the table, reading the news on his laptop, which was a precarious little thing if you asked Steph. If he found anything potentially supernatural among those, they wouldn't hesitate to just up and go, no matter what condition they were in. She wasn't confident in her ability to convince them to call one of the other hunters they knew to handle it.

"I don't know why I was expecting anything else," Steph muttered to herself sort of amusedly, but also roiled by the fact that neither of the boys could stay put for two minutes, cold or no cold. Stupid, stubborn sonuvabitches. At least Sam had the decency to put on a hoodie to avoid getting chilled.

"Hey," the younger Winchester looked up, a bit surprised to see Dean right in her tow, since he had been pretty conked out when they got back. "Do you need help?" his eyes flickered back to Steph, about to get up to assist right as she was going to fridge to get the eggs.

"Just sit and look pretty. Both of you," she shot a firm glare at both of them, and Dean finally took a seat by his brother, his face like a scolded child's. The girl softened at that. "Still up for eggs and bacon? I can make something lighter…"

"Don't you dare!" Dean protested with that serious face of his that Steph always found comical. "And I thought waffles were on the menu too."

"All right, don't get your panties in a twist," the girl chuckled, putting her hands up in surrender. Though honestly she wouldn't be surprised if neither of them really had an appetite. She just had the same thing and sure as hell she wasn't craving heavy foods.

"I think I'll go with toast and jam after all," Sam piped in self-consciously, purposefully avoiding Dean's eyes, who was looking at him like he was a traitor.

"I'm glad at least someone can be reasonable," Stephanie rewarded him with a warm smile before quickly throwing a dirty look to Dean to get him to stop silently pestering his little brother. He was sick after all, so what if his stomach wasn't feeling up to the greasy stuff?

Steph busied herself with cooking, a cacophony of sniffling and light coughing as background noise behind her back to break the silence. As if her turning her back on them automatically meant she wouldn't hear them or notice, they had been so careful to avoid doing any of those if they could help it while she was facing them. Sneaky little bastards that's for sure. But she wasn't fooled. Steph was glad at least they didn't put up any protest to her preparing the meals, even all the way from day one. She always enjoyed being in the kitchen, but actually cooking for someone else was a feeling that had eluded her life for a long time, so she now basked in every minute of it.

When done she placed their orders in front of them, getting some granola and yoghurt for herself to eat.

"So…" the girl began, getting the boys' attention, preparing for yet another bravado of hers, hoping it would help handling the sick Winchesters better. "This is how this is going to go. Anyone with a fever over 101 will stay in bed. Those who comply will be free of pestering from me and can even choose their own entertainment to prevent them from going stir crazy. How's that sound?"

"And those who don't?" Dean challenged cheekily, because who else would question the authority of anyone but his father's if not him? Sam was the opposite, he was inclined to follow the rules whenever possible, except if the terms came from John. His death might have changed many things but this one thing stood fast even after so many years and hardships.

"I'll be their worst nightmare," Steph replied with an overly sweet smile, worthy of an Oscar performance if she could say so herself, that sent an involuntary chill down both of their spines. "No, but seriously. Is it so much to ask that you guys just do the rational thing and take it easy?"

"No, you are right, Steph," Sam relented, his face full of remorse for giving her grief. "We just don't want to burden you."

"You are not a burden, but you know what would help me take care of you? If you guys bunked in the same room until this lasts," Steph suggested, since for one reason or another the Winchesters had chosen practically the farthest rooms from each other in the Bunker, which she could never really quite understand. Running back and forth between those two would be a challenge if this cold or flu or whatever worsened, which she was guessing it would.

"Nah-ah, he snores like a truck driver when he is sick!" they boys exclaimed simultaneously in loud wacky protest, pointing at the other one.

And that answered that. As she giggled at their in synch reaction she could just practically imagine their misery, inevitably being confined to two queen bed motel rooms when either of them was down with something over the years. That had to account for a lot sleepless nights.

"Okay, how about Dean, you move into my room for the time being since it's right beside Sam's? It would really help if you weren't so far from each other in case you both end up with high fevers," she tried again between spoonfuls of yoghurt. The fact that Dean wasn't really eating, just pushing his omelet and waffles around on his plate didn't avoid her attention either. And if Dean wasn't hungry that meant that something was seriously wrong. Hence her predictions.

"And where will you sleep?" the older Winchester made a face at her, the buds of something nervy already forming in that skull of his, she could tell.

"I'll just lie down in the library on the couch or something," Steph didn't want to add that she wasn't anticipating much sleeping in her near future, if her own progression with the illness was anything to go by. And the boys had much more ammunition for nightmares too…

"Or… you could just sleep with me," Dean suggested nonchalantly, earning a wide-eyed ' _what the fuck, dude_?' stare from Sam.

"Or I could just sleep with you," Stephanie muttered back absentmindedly before her brain to mouth filter could kick in and she could consciously realize what she was saying. She instantly went scarlet red, trying to find something to do to avert the attention from what had just left that blabbering mouth of hers. "You are not going to finish that, are you?" she reached for Dean's plate to dump the uneaten food in the trash, when he yanked it back from her grasp.

"Hey! Give it back!" the hunter grunted, setting the plate back on the table and made a show of stuffing a few forkfuls into his mouth. Gotta give points for the effort, but Steph saw what a struggle it was for him to keep it down and she knew for a fact that it had nothing to do with her cooking skills.

Stephanie rounded the table and stood between the brothers, placing a comforting hand on both of their shoulders as she pulled them closer to her.

"No one is going to judge if you don't feel up to eating it," she whispered warmly into Dean's ear, placing a tender kiss on his temple. Yupp, definitely feverish, she could tell. And he didn't pull away from her touch either, just closed his eyes briefly. "Nor will it hurt my feelings."

Reluctantly Dean ceased his efforts of shoving food down his throat, propping his head in his right hand defeatedly. Just to avoid playing favorites she turned to Sam next, who had pretty much consumed all of the toast much to her delight, and kissed him on the forehead too. Maybe not as bad as Dean's but surely he had the beginnings of a fever there too. He sort of got that deer caught in the headlights look on him for a second, but then when her intention became clear he almost sighed contentedly as he leaned into her touch. That really did things to her, but she tore herself away to get back to business.

"So… the earlier ground rules…" Steph continued, reaching into her pockets and pulling two thermometers out, handing one to either of them.

"Where did those come from?" Sam inquired in amazement as he took the one offered to him.

"Let's just say getting laundry done wasn't the only thing I was working on," she winked conspiratorially to the both of them. Knowing the boys, they wouldn't get into bed before nighttime anyway, no matter how bad they might be feeling, so she quickly set up the area around the flat screen for them to lounge the day away, bundled in blankets and stuff, watching movies or something, which hopefully would have them dosing off in a matter of minutes anyway.

"Yeah? And what's… _hiii…_ " Dean tried to sass her before his body betrayed him by hitching his breath at the worst possible moment. He quickly turned away from Steph and buried his face into his hands. " _HEH'sheew-uhm… HAE'hshshshsh…_ dabbit…" he sighed congestedly. Obviously those came out much wetter than he had anticipated and now he was in bit of a pinch if he didn't want to reveal the mess in his palms.

"Bless you. Here," Steph handed him two tissues from a travel pack she had in her pocket too. Preparedness my friends, preparedness.

He took it gratefully, giving his nose a good honking blow.

 _"_ _HRAETSH'SHEEWW_ " Sam twisted away from her right the second Dean was done, and Steph couldn't help but sigh as she passed him a tissue too.

She took their plates to the sink to do the dishes quickly, calling over her shoulder. "Take your temperature, guys."

And to her great surprise they complied. She honestly did a little victory dance in her head and she was glad that they couldn't see her face right that moment, because surely it would have been written all over it. A minute later she heard the thermometers start beeping almost simultaneously and then Dean cussing under his breath.

"Lemme see," Steph coaxed after wiping her hands on the kitchen towel, holding her palm out for the instruments over the dining table.

101.2 for Dean and 100.8 for Sam. She had to laugh, both right on the edge of the arbitrary line she had drawn for them, just on different sides of it. No wonder Dean was so disgruntled. He always hated being seen as weak. Especially because he always felt that he should be taking care of Sammy.

"You know… I'll be happy if I just have you guys horizontal and under blankets… do you want to see what I have set up in front of the TV?" the girl offered the alternative with a coy smile.

The bait worked like a charm, both of them perked up a bit, and she quickly rounded the table again, taking their hands and leading the two giants to the little living area nook of the library. She had pulled the convertible couch out, and had put little side tables on both sides, both equipped with tissue boxes, medicine, the whole nine yards.

"When did you do all this?" Dean wondered out loud.

"I have something to confess…" she began in all seriousness as she glanced between the brothers. "I can secretly time travel."

Sam gave her that exasperated/unamused look of his that was usually reserved for Dean.

"Getting laundry started doesn't take that long…" Stephanie explained with a shrug. She had plenty of time to do parts of this each time she passed the library. She just had to get some tea going to complete the set.

"You are the best librarian/nurse there ever was, Steph," Sam praised in awe as he appraised the scene.

"Yeah, the only thing that could top it if you were my kind of librarian… slash nurse…" the older Winchester smirked, awfully pleased himself that he was finally able to fire off this joke. It had been itching at the back of his mind for months.

" _Dean!_ " Sam hissed at him with a little shove, glancing down to Steph worriedly to see if she was offended or flustered by the comment.

Steph just laughed heartily, hugging her boys closer to herself by their hips, while they shared a confused look at her reaction. She could only guess what Dean's kind of librarian looked like, but surely it involved something pervy and not a lot of clothes. She didn't mind Dean just being Dean, and had gotten used to his inappropriate jokes a long time ago. She didn't feel like this was an expression of specific attraction towards her, more like a general preference to women.

"Okay, get settled, I'll be back in a sec with some tea," she said once she was over her momentary glee, already turning to leave when Sam scooted over to the other side of the couch.

"Nope, no way, lady, you are staying right here," Dean grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down right between them with a swift move. After haphazardly yanking the afghan over themselves, he got the remote, flicking through channels absentmindedly with one hand, never actually having let go of Steph with the other, just sort of had her tucked to his side.

Sam was sitting there kind of awkwardly for a moment until she noticed that he was left out and motioned for him to snuggle up to her. Which he did without having to be asked twice, throwing a hand over her stomach as he lay his head down on her shoulder.

Stephanie was cocooned in feverish warmth from all sides but honestly she couldn't picture a more perfect scene for herself. She and her boys chilling out in front of the TV, all tangled up in each other. She really wanted to pinch herself, because surely this was a dream or something.

 _"_ _HAE'raetsheh"_

 _"_ _HEH'shshew-um"_

As an instant reality check both brothers sneezed loudly, jerking forward to try and not sneeze on her. Yes, that one detail could have been different, she always preferred the Winchesters healthy, alert and action ready, given their line of work.

"Bless you both," Steph smiled fondly, drawing them back to her side promptly as soon as they were done blowing their noses. She saw that as a precaution both of them got a couple fresh tissues ready in their hands in case this happened again, dabbing at their running nose here and there between sniffles. The vulnerability was almost too much to bear.

"You know, this is actually kinda nice," Sam commented with a sigh as he let himself be pulled even closer to Steph, enjoying her hand in his hair, rubbing away the slight headache.

Dean just grunted in agreement.

"I told you so," she chuckled. She was glad she finally got through to them and that she was able to show them just how _nice_ having a female in caretaking role in their lives could be.

"Okay, pumpkin, you win," the older Winchester smirked, kissing her on the top of her head.


	8. Chapter 8

_I really should start a business as a fortune teller_ , Stephanie smiled to herself as she glanced at the bundle of blanket on her left that was Sam. He was out like a light, snoring, kinda drooling too on her shoulder, but she couldn't care less. And it didn't even take twenty minutes. She thought she was a genius.

Dean on the other hand was stubbornly resisting the powers of the TV hypnotization and was just not going out. He had an amused smirk dancing at the corners of his lips though.

"Told you," he wanted to whisper to Steph cheekily, to comment on the snoring, but ended up sniffling loudly and sending himself into a small coughing fit.

Steph wondered if he couldn't fall asleep because of the noise his brother was making, but honestly it wasn't _that_ loud and Dean seemed like ready to pass out, heavy eyelids and all, he was just keeping himself alert through sheer willpower.

And then she noticed that telltale vacant look in his eyes, eyelids fluttering, nostrils flaring, mouth going slack and hanging open just a bit as he inhaled raggedly.

" _Huh… eh…uh…_ … fuck…" Dean cursed, rubbing the underside of his nose irritatedly with his knuckles. _Poor baby_ , Steph thought. Stuck sneezes were the worst.

"Look into the light," she suggested. Sometimes a bit of photic stimulation helped hers along so she thought it might work for him too.

"Wha… _heh…_ " he looked at her confusedly, completely frazzled by that insistent itch deep down in his sinuses. The girl next to him gestured towards the ceiling, and he followed with his eyes blearily. The neon tube lighting, courtesy of the 50s, hummed incessantly but seemingly did nothing to help alleviate Dean's tickle. He stared upwards for a while with a scrunched up expression, on the brink of sneezing, almost there, but not quite. And then finally he brought his wrist up to his face… " _Huh… huh… HUH'KSHEEW-uhm…"_ the first one came out thundering, followed by smaller ones he obviously wanted to stifle to avoid making too much noise, but there was just no stopping them. " _he'gxkshsh… hksh… hikshoo… eh…"_

And then it was lost again, although clearly he still wasn't done yet, his breathing was shallow and superficial as he tried to fight against the itch in his nostrils. It seemed like utter torture.

By her side, Sam stirred because of the ruckus, making funny little smacking noises with his lips as he tried to overcome the dryness that was caused by the openmouthed sleeping.

"W-where is the shooting?" he asked groggily, wiping away the drool, glancing around the room with squinted eyes, feeling around under his pillow for his gun.

"Shh… go back to sleep… nothing is going on," Steph stroked his hair soothingly, feeling the warmth radiate off of him. _That fever must be worse by now_ , she worried inwardly. Good thing there wasn't actually anything remotely weapon like around at the moment. The last thing they needed was one of the boys getting their hands on one in the midst of a fever dream, half or totally out of it.

Hearing her reassuring and calm voice Sam seemed to accept that all was well and rolled on his other side, coughing lightly into the blanket.

" _HEH'SHSHOO-ugh_ … god," Dean snapped forward suddenly with that last lingering one, jostling Steph in the process, wincing painfully at the way the sneeze got caught in his throat.

Sam got startled back to full consciousness with a yelp and he sat straight up, practically ramming into Steph with the momentum.

"What happened?" he looked around with clouded eyes frantically this time, trying to find the source of the loud noise.

They were so damn light sleepers. Okay, not that Dean was too quiet with his sneezes now that Stephanie convinced him that holding them back or stifling was not doing him any good.

"Okay, now I get the need to separate you guys. Come on, big boy, let's get you to bed," she said, not fazed at all by the Winchester sandwich she was in at the moment, climbing off the couch and reaching for Sam's elbow to help him up too. He would be able to sleep much better in his room.

"Ho…hold… _huh…_ hold on…" the younger Winchester angled himself away, fumbling for tissues from the box by his side. " _Heh'RshhUSHH-uh_ " he sneezed, the sound muffled by all the layers in front his face.

"Bless you, sweetie," Steph cooed as he blew his nose. When he was finished he looked utterly spent and just leaned forward to lay his head against her stomach, moaning contentedly between sniffs when Stephanie began rubbing soothing circles into his skull.

It would have been adorable as hell if it weren't for Dean's obvious jealousy. If a glare could kill…

"I'll come back in just a moment, don't you worry," the girl commented, barely suppressing a giggle and the amusement out of her voice.

She finally helped up the giant of a hunter. Thankfully he was able to support his whole weight, albeit a bit staggeringly, and they made to his room without incident, Steph only tucked under his arm for precaution, because honestly Steph wasn't sure how she was going to support his frame if he just collapsed right that moment. He had at least 60 pounds on her, made of pure muscle…

"God, this cold is kicking my ass," Sam said with a throaty cough when he practically dropped onto his bed like a sack of potatoes, then just let his upper body fall to the side, while his feet were still on the floor.

"I think you should take something for that fever of yours," she suggested, keeping her voice light, even though he was worrying her a bit. From what she was told even the Trials didn't have him _this_ rundown a few years ago, and he was coughing up blood then, running a fever of 107 at one point, yet still out and hunting. Maybe it's the fact he knows that he can let himself feel unwell because there was someone to take care of them and nothing on their plate to handle.

"It's not that bad," he waved her off half-heartedly, burying his face further into the pillows. The whole performance wasn't that impressive since he still didn't bother to get his whole length into the bed.

"Yeah, it wasn't half an hour ago, but you feel warmer now," Steph checked his forehead again, then let her hand linger on the side of his fevered face. Her hands must have felt so cold to him, but he seemed to welcome it.

"Okay…" he relented with a tired mumble, his eyes already closing as he leaned into her touch.

"Just try and stay awake for another two minutes till I get your stuff," the girl instructed, running her hand into his long hair. God, she loved his hair.

"Okay…" Sam mumbled with the exact same intonation as before, obviously not far from unconsciousness. Steph just chuckled lightly with a shake of her head. Yeah, he would be asleep in two seconds tops.

She hurried back to the library, but to her surprise Dean was gone. For a moment she panicked, wondering if he had to go the bathroom or something, wishing that if that was the case he wasn't throwing up – which was a likely possibility given the breakfast he forced down out of pride – then noticed that his medicine tray was gone too. _Okay, so retreated to one of the rooms then…_ God, she hoped he didn't go to sulk in his own room and had the decency to take her up on the offer of bunking in hers for now.

But that mystery will have to wait to be solved because her attention for now was solely on Sam. Steph grabbed the stuff she had previously set up for him and returned to his side hastily.

Just as expected, he was fast asleep. She hated to have to wake him up, but to tell the truth he didn't look like he was that comfortable, especially with his legs still dangling off the side. His back would hurt like a bitch if he stayed in this position for too long.

"Sam…" she prodded quietly, touching his face lightly to ease him back into the waking world.

"Mmhhmm…" the younger Winchester protested with a whimper, truly making look like a small child despite his size. Steph's heart was about to melt, overtaken by the intense need to just wrap him up in a hug.

"Open up, sweetie," Steph insisted, and he complied without opening his eyes.

While they waited for the results on the thermometer, Stephanie continued to caress his hair, which he seemed to be enjoying very much. The thought that he never had this as a child, no mother figure to ease his woes, was twisting her insides like a knife. They of all people deserve that.

The instrument beeped finally, and Steph was horrified to see that it was at 103.2. How the hell did it get so bad this fast?

"Sam… wake up for me a bit, okay? I need you to take some pills, and I'm going to get a cool washcloth for you," she implored solicitously.

Bless his heart, hearing the urgency in her voice he did pull himself together somewhat instantly, doing as instructed, no matter how shitty he felt. He propped himself up on the elbow, taking the medicine given to him, then downing it with some water.

"Can I go back to sleep now?" Sam inquired in groggy hopefulness.

"Yeah, you can," Steph smiled, helping him to get under the covers, fully on the bed now.

As soon as he was situated, she went to search for a small basin and a washcloth. For whatever reason there was one under the sink in his bathroom, and she was glad that she didn't need to go far. Steph quickly filled it up with cool water, and deemed one of his clean small towels adequate for the purpose.

Sam was out like a light. The snore would always be a dead giveaway while this monster of a cold lasted. Steph wrung the cloth and placed it carefully on his brows, hoping not to wake him, but she knew that probably was a tall order.

Sam stirred, opening just his right eye to a slit to assess what was going on around him, relaxing into the coolness on his forehead.

"You're an angel… No wonder Dean loves you," he muttered sleepily. Steph's hand froze mid-air as she was withdrawing from his face. She was a 100% sure Sam was not in his right mind at the moment, even if the hyperbolic compliment was sweet. Were he fully conscious he would have never said this. That did raise the question if there was some truthfulness to it, but she was too busy freaking out inwardly at the second part to consider it.

"I think you are confusing me with Cas," she joked to ease her embarrassment as she stroked his face, although the idea had occurred to her on multiple occasions in the past. There was definitely something between the two, even if nothing romantic. Some profound bond. Guess getting raised from perdition by an angel will do that to you.

"I'm pretty sure you look nothing alike," Sam chuckled through his dazed smile, turning to his side to cough because the air got caught in his throat, the cloth sliding off onto the pillow with his sudden motion.

It just wouldn't stop so Stephanie helped him up quickly into a sitting position and patted him lightly on the back until the fit subsided.

"Okay, I think it's time to get some rest," the girl instructed him, once he had full control over his breathing again.

"Yeah, I can do that," the younger Winchester agreed, instantly dropping back against the pillows, snoozing within a second.

Steph smiled at him fondly as she set the small towel back on his forehead, happy that he didn't stir this time. Only Sam could be such a dork even when he was sick.

* * *

Her search for Dean was pleasantly short. She found him on the first try, sprawled in her bed. Snoring. She had to suppress a laugh because truth be told they really both were like truck drivers. Extremely handsome and adorable truck drivers, but still.

She wanted to exit as fast as she came to let him rest – although honestly with the way Sam's fever shot up maybe checking on him would have been more prudent – but the slight creak of the door was enough to rouse him.

"How's Sam?" he croaked groggily, glancing at her in the doorway. Give it to Dean for his first thought to be about his brother.

 _Oh well_ , Steph thought, _might as well go in._

"His fever spiked so I had him take some medicine. He's sleeping now," the girl answered truthfully, though kind of wishing she hadn't because Dean was almost instantly trying to get out of bed to go and check on him. "Easy there, cowboy, I'll go check on him again in a half an hour, once the meds had a chance to start kicking in, until then let him rest and me to worry about you for a little while."

"'m fine," Dean grunted indignantly, but let himself be pushed back onto the bed.

"Don't be so grouchy with me," she complained lightly with a fake pout as she crouched down by his head.

She tentatively reached to run her hand through his hair, and to her great joy he didn't protest or flinch away. Tactile comfort has always been her go to move. She reveled a bit in the feeling of being able to touch him, then leaned in to kiss his forehead. He seemed a bit warmer too unfortunately.

Dean watched her with intent eyes as she pulled back, and Steph could feel herself get flushed from just his gaze. Maybe Sam's fever ramblings had something to do with that too. She averted her gaze to the side, almost happy to be reminded that Dean had brought everything with him to her room as her eyes landed on the thermometer. She picked it up and offered it to him. The exaggerated roll of eyes on his part that followed would have been comical if he didn't shut his eyes in a scrunched up expression right after from the resulting pain. Sinus headache, she guessed.

Steph nudged the instrument towards him again when he resurfaced, and he begrudgingly took it. She didn't let up with her hand in his hair while they waited, and he seemed to relax somewhat, like she was pulling the stress right out of with her fingers.

Dean's fever fortunately stayed about the same, just above 101.5. At least that was something. Steph offered some meds to him too anyway, in case he was just a bit behind Sam on the curve of this illness. He took them without a word, almost dry swallowing them until he realized that was like the worst idea in the history of worst ideas. Steph was prepared though, handing him that glass of water before he could choke on them. The ensuing coughing fit was kind of inevitable though.

"Get some sleep, okay?" she requested from him, knowing that they had been up all night with that case.

"Stay," Dean peered at her with a signature smolder – thank heavens much more appealing than Flynn Rider's, and that this wasn't a Disney movie – knowing that he was copying her clinginess from days before and pumping it for whatever it was worth.

She stood there dumbfounded, looking for the punch line, but it never came one.

"Scoot," Steph said finally, rolling her eyes, then climbed in beside him, letting herself be pulled to his chest and cuddled with.

She really believed it should have been more awkward, that she would have felt much more embarrassed. But she didn't. It just felt nice to be needed, and there wasn't any sexual tension between them either like when he got out of the shower. Obviously he would have been too tired for any of it anyway. Seconds later she felt Dean's even – albeit congested – hot breaths against her neck, clearly having fallen asleep. The light snore started up soon after too.

 _He is such a sap_ , she thought. Just hid it very well behind all the macho-ness. Clearly he wasn't sleeping well unless he had a body to cuddle up to. That would explain the constant need for one-night stands while on the road.

Steph almost had to cry from the realization.


	9. Chapter 9

There were so many things Steph wanted to do that morning while the boys rested, first and foremost making them proper homemade chicken noodle soup, but she just didn't have the heart to try and extract herself from Dean's embrace. He was sleeping so peacefully, and even if she managed to get out of bed without him stirring, waking up without her later would really be a damper on his mood. She didn't want to break his trust by leaving him all alone when she had promised to stay.

Sleep of course was eluding her, she have had plenty of rest in the last few days, so she just lay there in the warm cocoon provided by Dean, thinking. Witty comeback or not, Sam's words left a huge impact on her. Especially since she had been wondering about things along the same lines for days now too. The more important question would be though, how _she_ felt about them. No doubt about it she loved both of the Winchesters dearly. Nothing would ever change that. And she also found them both... pleasing to the eyes so to speak. That wasn't up for debate either.

The thing to figure out was the nature of that love. Beyond all the above points, Sam was like her best friend, their thinking was so much alike. They had so many shared interests, and could just sit for hours and hours discussing practically nothing without getting bored. He was definitely a confidant. A connection she didn't really want to jeopardize by something as fickle as lust, she had to realize.

Dean on the other hand had this magnetic pull on her. Her thoughts would always wander to him, no matter what she was doing. He was this mysterious force she wanted to figure out and get to know more, since he wouldn't open up too much on his own. He had her intrigued like no one ever has before, and she believed that she had gotten pretty good at reading his nonverbal cues what with all that careful observation she had been doing, yet before now the idea that he might be in love with her never even crossed her mind.

Dean's posture suddenly stiffened behind her back, and Steph was about to turn around to see if he was having a nightmare or something when he sneezed with a sleepy " _Hehsshhoo_ " right into the back of her neck, seemingly so comfortable that practically not even waking up in the process. Either that or he had completely forgotten that he was cuddled up to Steph.

The wet spray on her skin should have grossed her out, she guessed, yet all she could do was reach back and stroke his hair fondly as she got a tissue for him with the other from the box on the nightstand.

"Bless you," Steph murmured soothingly, handing him the tissues.

Dean who had initial eased back into a semi-conscious state after the sneeze went rigid again as his brain caught up to what had actually transpired just now. His cheeks went bright red with embarrassment as he opened his eyes, overshadowing the fever splotches that were already present.

"Sorry," he muttered, his voice hoarse and terse, eyes pointedly avoiding her gaze as he took the tissues.

Reluctantly he broke the contact between their bodies to turn away and blow his nose, shivering slightly from the loss of heat against his stomach. The congestion was wet, thick and gurgly as it left his sinuses, but at least he was still able to clear them and wasn't totally blocked up. In all honesty he looked miserable, and not just from the illness.

"Hey, don't worry, I have three younger siblings. Getting sneezed on is not the worst thing that had happened to me over the years," the girl chuckled, her tone full of affection as she ran her hands through his hair. _Oh yes, puke was much, much worse._

Although still mortified, Dean seemed to relax partially after hearing that, not even making a move to withdraw from her touch. All that lasted about two seconds, before his expression got guarded and moody again, making Steph wonder if she had said something wrong.

"See how Sammy's doing, make sure his brain isn't boiling itself," the older Winchester grunted, turning on his other side, away from Steph, leaving her confused and hurt with the sudden rejection.

All Dean could think about on the other hand was his vexation with himself. How could he have thought that he was anything other than a brother to her? Everything pointed to that. Asking for lessons from him, clinging to him for comfort when sick or hurt, asking him to read to her. Those were things you would ask from a big brother, not someone you romantically love. And now the fact that she wasn't even fazed by him sneezing on her? Bringing up her siblings? _Great one, Dean. Way to misread the situation, man._

She wanted so badly to give him a piece of her mind about childish behaviors and passive aggressive bullshit, but then he started coughing into the covers, losing all of the dignity he tried to hold onto in his sulking.

Stephanie sighed, getting the glass of water from the nightstand to offer to him, reaching with her other hand to pat his back or to run soothing circles into it, but Dean effectively twisted away from her touch by sitting up and taking the water from her as the fit subsided.

He avoided her gaze at all costs as he took a few tentative sips and Steph had to come to the conclusion that she wasn't welcome anymore. _Fine_ , if that's how he wanted to play it, that's what he would get. She slid off the bed, doing her very best to keep her roiling emotions to herself, knowing that Dean wasn't feeling well and maybe his behavior wasn't personally aimed at her, just a sign of his overall misery coupled with that damn Mark. Yet the nagging feeling that it was always one step forward, two steps back with Dean just wouldn't leave her mind.

Steph couldn't help but shut the door a little more forcefully behind herself than she initially intended as she stepped out onto the corridor. Once outside she sighed again, trying to expel all her annoyance with that big exhale. It wasn't working.

Even through the doors she could hear his harsh sneezes, sounding painful and taxing, only somewhat muffled by the barrier between them, and she almost went back inside to provide comfort before she stopped her hand midway to the doorknob, hesitating.

 _No_ , her pride intervened finally. There was no need to humiliate herself, or grovel, or push her affections onto him. He would come around eventually. At least she hoped he would. In the meantime she could do what was asked of her and check on Sam.

* * *

Steph entered Sam's room carefully, not wanting to wake him in case he was still sleeping. His giant form was sprawled all across his bed, sheets tangled around his limbs as if he had been thrashing around, unable to settle down in one spot. So much for restful sleep. Somehow he still managed to keep the washcloth on his forehead though, and that made her smile.

She ventured closer, noting the flush of his cheeks that broadcasted that his fever still wasn't gone yet, despite the medicine and cooling cloth. It was long warmed now so Stephanie carefully peeled it off of him, rewetting it in the basin by the bed before returning it in its place.

Sam of course stirred because of the cold contact on his skin, blinking lazily, squinting a bit at the light provided by the bedside lamp.

"Hey," he rasped, his tone and facial expression indicating that despite feeling shitty as hell he was pleased to see Steph. _At least someone did_ , she huffed internally.

"Hey to you too," the girl smiled, placing the back of her hand against his cheeks to gauge his temperature before getting the thermometer from the nightstand. "Wanna give me a number?" she looked at him expectantly as she offered it to him.

Sam's hand stilled midair as he reached for it, signaling her to wait a second as he quickly pulled the hem of his shirt over his nose, angling himself away from Steph as he clamped his hand too over the fabric for good measure.

" _HUHr'reshoo… huh'rgxghshshsh… ha'raeSHOO…"_

That was definitely something new. Steph had only ever seen him sneeze in singles so far, so a fit of three was surely a sight to behold. But definitely not a good sign. The cold was getting worse. The poor guys looked so dazed afterwards too, clumsily reaching for the tissues before Stephanie shook herself out from her momentary surprise and helped him out.

"Thangks…" Sam mumbled, the congestion now affecting his consonants.

"No problem. Bless you, sweetie," she absentmindedly said, rubbing his arm affectionately while he cleaned himself up and giving his nose a good honking blow.

With Sam it was just so much easier. No second guessing, none of that angsty drama. Yet, the more she thought about it now, the more sisterly her feelings became towards him. That was just her luck it seemed. Always having to make everything harder and more complicated for herself. On some level, she supposed, at least settling her mind on one of the brothers was simplifying things marginally.

Noticing her blank stare and that she was deep in thought, Sam took the thermometer gently from her hand instead of asking for it to avoid jostling her out of her reverie, but even that small thing ultimately did snap her back to the present. She smiled at him sweetly, her attention once again fully on taking care of him.

As he waited Sam was wondering if something had happened, Steph just seemed out of sorts, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. He wanted to ask her about it, but the beeping of the thermometer came at the most inconvenient moment, and that drew his and her attention both away. He took a quick peek at it before handing it off her.

102\. Marginally better. Still too high though. Glancing at the clock Steph noted that enough time had passed to dose Sam up again on medicine.

After taking all the offered pills, the younger Winchester eyed the girl a bit more thoroughly, trying to find out what was wrong.

"Get some more sleep, okay?" she cooed in a quiet tone, lightly rubbing that one spot between Sam's eyes which always crinkled when he was thinking too hard or was stressed or in any kind of pain, noticing the strain even though it was half hidden by the cloth on his forehead, although mistaking it for discomfort due to being ill.

"What happened, Steph?" Sam blurted out, the emotions flitting through her face at the question not evading his attention. Something upset her.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about getting soup started," the girl lied smoothly, kicking herself internally. She didn't usually hide things from Sam. Why start now? Well… She just didn't want him worked up, when his energy would be better spent on getting well.

"Bull…" he started, propping himself up on his elbows, but got quickly shushed by a gentle finger on his lips.

"Sam. Drop it. Focus on getting better, and I _am_ going to the kitchen to make some chicken noodle soup. How's that sound?"

He wanted to argue, wanted to know what was bothering Steph so much, but her imploring face convinced him to let it slide.

"Sounds amazing," the younger Winchester pliantly relaxed back against his pillows, the beaming smile and kiss on the forehead that he got as a reward taking him wholly by surprise.

* * *

Steph stepped back out to the hallway, feeling marginally better; the fact that Sam was a constant, reliable point in her life, his behavior something that she could always predict – like him picking up on her emotions and that something was going on – easing her back into the mental equilibrium she had been so lacking these past few days.

That moment of peace got shattered in exactly 0.5 seconds when she noticed Dean stumbling out of her room just as she was quietly closing Sam's door.

They stared at each other for a few moments, the tension between them so thick almost sliceable by knife.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Steph asked, her tone coming out a bit harsher than intended, and she mentally kicked herself, wanting to take it back. There was no need to aggravate him, no matter how bruised her own ego was.

"Checking on Sam," he said gruffly, something almost like guilt flashing through his eyes before he managed to harden his expression again.

She knew she shouldn't react with the knee-jerk response, but something about the whole thing just seemed so off that she couldn't help herself.

"So… you don't trust me now, is that it?" the girl snapped, her eyes narrowing dangerously at the hunter, making him flinch slightly.

Dean literally just asked her three minutes ago to check on his brother, why would he assume that she wouldn't do it? As if him getting all pissy with her would cause her to neglect the other brother. Or that was just it? Dean was afraid that she ran to Sam for comfort after he was such an asshole to her?

He averted his gaze, but did not give her an answer, which made the situation just that much more impossible to bear. Especially since in no way did that help figuring out in what sense wasn't Dean trusting her. After a solid minute of watching him barely holding himself upright on the wall, shivering with fever, yet stubbornly refusing to go back to his – well her – room or say anything, Steph just had enough.

Figuring that if she removed herself from the situation maybe, just _maybe_ , he would have enough sense to either go back to his – her – bed, or stumble his way to Sam's room where he can collapse and get comfortable too, Steph decided to do just that.

"You know what? Suit yourself. I just gave him more medicine, you can check with him if you don't believe me, so please refrain from stuffing more down his throat for another 3 hours," Stephanie fumed, pushing past the older Winchester in a hurry towards the kitchen before she said anything truly hurtful. After all she was merely reacting to the obvious layer of meaning his need to check on his brother could have had. She could have said things so much worse than that.

* * *

 _Should have counted to ten before opening your big fat stupid mouth_ , Steph berated herself as she marched into the kitchen, quickly losing the steam that fueled her fury. She stood there in the middle for a second, exasperatedly running her hand through her short bob. Well, technically short yeah, but for her it was getting long, her roots starting to show a bit too much as well.

It was high time to go get her hair done, dyeing and everything, but she had been putting it off for a while now because the boys were always gone, and they insisted that she didn't go out of the Bunker alone. And like the good little girl she was, she listened. Okay, she was just a bit bitter and worked up right now, she knew that it was for her protection and safety. Even if she had the anti-possession tattoo, her gun and training and whatnot.

She looked around, almost having forgotten for a second what she had come into this room for. _Soup. Right. Yes, let's do soup._ That she had control over, and control was something she desperately craved at the moment.

Stephanie went into the pantry, getting the dry ingredients she would need, along with the vegetables that weren't stored in the refrigerator. If they had any that is, which they didn't, just some pasta that wasn't exactly the kind she would have needed for the soup. Okay, no biggie, she would just have to improvise. Next up was the fridge. Not too much luck there either, but the real damper in her plans was the fact that they had no chicken in the freezer.

Because… right. The same reason she had a hair situation. If she can't go out, she can't buy groceries either, and during the two weeks she had been alone in the Bunker before this whole illness crap hit she had used up most of their stock. And the boys haven't been to the store since then it seemed…

Awesome _. Just fucking_ great _._ She wanted to scream out to give voice to her chagrin, but that wouldn't solve anything. It wasn't like her to get so worked up over anything, especially over something like _this_ , but she was just about at the edge of her limits by now. She just wanted to make a freaking chicken noodle soup for her sick boys. Was that so much to ask?

Leaning against the counter, her knee bouncing up and down with the pent up frustration, she contemplated her options. A supply run was inevitable. They were getting low on medicine too, not mention ingredients for practically anything else to make besides canned stuff and crackers.

But neither of the boys were up to taking her. Not that she wanted to ask in the first place. Dean wouldn't let Sam go under any circumstances, and Steph couldn't bear to breathe the same air as Dean at the moment.

Making her decision she quickly grabbed her keys and the remote for the garage door from the rack, and made her way to the garage where her VW Beetle was parked, by some miracle without running into anyone. Dean must have retreated to one of the rooms. _Hallelujah._

She quickly checked the glove compartment, thankfully finding that she had a gun stashed there, so there wasn't any need to return to her room for the other one, afraid that she would run into Dean there. After making sure her clip was fully loaded, she shifted gears and eased out of her parking space, carefully avoiding to scratch any of the old-timers, but especially the Impala. No one touched Baby, even if she was mad at her owner at the moment.

The boys could live through an hour without her, right?


	10. Chapter 10

Stephanie wouldn't have thought that being outside and just seeing… trees… and… cars… and… and… other people would fill her with so much joy. Maybe she had been cooped up for a tad longer than healthy for the human mind, because excitement over such trivial details was utterly not normal.

Lebanon, Kansas, the geographic center of the 48 contiguous U.S. states, being a backwater town with a population of 218, her options for shopping were pretty limited if she didn't want to go too far. The nearest Walmart was more than an hour's drive away. So the tiny local supermarket had to be enough then. Except, it was Sunday and the place was closed.

 _Of course._ Because why would anything go smoothly for her? Smith Center it was then. Thankfully only an 18-minute drive away. 15 if she decided not to give a shit about traffic regulations.

Another good habit of hers – just now realizing how lucky it really was as she was getting ready to get out of the car to go inside the store – was that she always had cash in her glove compartment, since she totally forgot her wallet in the midst of her Great Dean Avoidance Operation. About a hundred dollars in this case, she noted, scraping all the notes and coins together, shoving them into the large front pocket of her hoodie, along with her gun. Maybe going into public in tight yoga pants was not her brightest idea fashion wise, but at least her sweatshirt reached well below her butt, nicely concealing it from sight.

Realizing that this trip couldn't be about big stock replenishing with her limited resources, she just haphazardly gathered the ingredients that she would need for several batches of soup, some extra chicken breast and thighs, sauces, rice and potatoes for more substantial meals if the boys were feeling up to it in the coming days, leaving the rest of the cash for medicine and related supplies. She would just have to make a second run in a few days. Or have the boys do it if they were well enough by then, but she wasn't counting on it too much.

As she milled around in the cold/flu aisle of the pharmacy section, trying to decide which ones to get, she noticed from the corner of her eye that a thirty something looking guy with dark hair kept stealing glances at her.

At one such instance she managed to look up at just the right second to catch him looking, prompting him to avert his gaze instantly. The guy just creeped her out. There was absolutely nothing flattering about her at this moment. She wasn't wearing any make-up, her hair was a total mess, her clothing made her look like a plump potato with carrots sticking out at the bottom. Why the hell was he staring? Unless… Crap. Maybe he wasn't trying to flirt at all. What if he was a demon, and he knew exactly who she was? _Crap. Crap. Crap._

Steph quickly threw some NyQuil, DayQuil, decongestants, cough syrup and fever medication into her cart, no longer wanting to consider brands and stuff, and rushed away into the other direction. She could have gone _his_ way to mutter _Christo_ under her breath as she passed by, but on the off chance that he wasn't a demon, or didn't know of her connection to the Winchesters or of her knowledge on the supernatural, she saw it best to just leave it well alone.

It was cowardly, she knew. Maybe lives were at stake. But she had never been on a hunt even with the boys before, not to mention alone. Her inexperience would just get her killed, theory was much different than an actual life or death situation. And where would that leave the boys then? The guilt would eat them alive. She couldn't have that. No. She had a good description of the man. The boys can handle it once they were better, and she just had to hope that no one else would have to pay the price in the meanwhile for her decision.

On second thought she even went back to the beauty care section, and got purple hair dye to apply by herself at home, because this little run in got her anxiety high enough that she wasn't going to leave the Bunker for weeks again. Even if she could do nothing about the length, she could get the roots taken care of.

She must have looked like a total freak – or someone about to rob the place – at check out with the way she kept fidgeting, her eyes darting around every few seconds to see if the guy had followed her. She almost didn't even wait for her change before darting out of the store, very happy that this was a place that bagged your purchases for you, and thus she didn't have to idle around with that stuff like a sitting duck by the car later.

Steph was either really shitty at observing her surroundings with her panic frazzled mind or creepy stalker guy literally materialized out of thin air, because she totally jumped like two feet back when he was suddenly just _there_.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Do you need help with those?" the dark haired man offered, seemingly politely, to transfer her shopping bags into the trunk of her car.

Polite was not in Steph's vocabulary at the moment.

"Look, I don't know who you are. Frankly, I don't care. But if you don't back away and leave me the fuck alone, _right this second_ , I'm going to get my gun out and shoot you in the fucking kneecap for stalking me. Do we understand each other?" she snarled in a low tone so no one else heard them.

"Geez, I just wanted your number," the dude stepped back with a horrified expression on his face, hands up in the air as a sign of surrender. "Psycho bitch," he muttered with a shake of his head for good measure before practically running away.

Steph's knees almost buckled under her from relief as the adrenalin rush she was on suddenly crashed. She had to catch herself on the side of the Beetle to keep herself from falling. After two big calming breaths she quickly tossed everything into her trunk and decided that fuck the coin in the cart and not return it to the cart corral. Maybe this way she will make the day of some homeless guy.

As she was backing out she almost didn't notice the approaching car, having to pump the brakes in the midst of angry car horns blaring. Luckily they managed not to collide. Waiting for cops or filling out insurance information when she just wanted to be _away_ from the place would have been a real doozie. She rolled the window down and signaled the poor bloke that it was her bad, but was met with a big fat middle finger. Well, that wasn't very nice. Steph decided not to get upset about it though and just leaned her forehead against the steering wheel for five seconds to collect herself. Damned frayed nerves.

Paying very close attention this time she pulled out and headed home. Taking multiple and elaborate detours until she was a 1000% sure that no one was following her. Leading some random demon to the Bunker would have been just the motherfucking icing on the cake for this clusterfuck of a day.

* * *

Meanwhile in the Bunker Dean was just about ready to bang his head against the wall. He probably would have if it weren't for his massive sinus headache that would surely be aggravated to migraine status by those actions. Why did he have to be such a jerk to Stephanie? Of course he trusted her. She had done nothing to warrant his distrust. Like ever. There wasn't a more caring, considerate person he had ever met. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to accomplish by going to Sammy's room. He had a feeling she would be there. Maybe he wanted to apologize, yet he managed to screw it up even further.

All that fuss and he ended up just going back to his – her – room, and lying down for a second because his head was getting so dizzy. Fuck this stupid flu bug with the fucking fever and the fucking weakness. He hated it. Yet he couldn't come to hate Steph for infecting them with it. He wouldn't change a damned thing about taking care of her. His heart was about ready to burst on that first night when she clung to him in her feverish daze like a freaking adorable baby sloth. Yes, definitely not wanting to change that.

Rationally speaking it was probably them who gave her the virus in the first place, she hadn't left the Bunker in ages, her immune system was presumably shot from the lack of exposure to people and thus she came down with it much faster than he and Sam did. Yes, that was most likely what happened. Dean was happy with this assessment, albeit now feeling a bit guilty for making her sick. At least Cas had come when he asked and set everything right.

With those thoughts he drifted to sleep.

Only to be rudely awakened seemingly seconds later by Sam at his door.

"Have you seen Steph?" his Sasquatch sized brother asked with a croak, bundled in a blanket yet still shaking like a leaf, leaning against the doorframe for support. Damn, he was a mess, long hair tussled, nose bright red from rubbing it too much, doubtlessly against the fabric of his blanket like he was doing now, the harsh material of which was definitely not forgiving to his sensitive skin. Where the hell were his tissues? And why wasn't he wearing anything on his feet? Did he want to catch his death or something?

"No..." Dean trailed off groggily, trying to get his mind to work. "Last I saw her, she was leaving your room. Put some damned socks on at least, I'm getting the chills from just looking at you."

Sam glanced down at his feet confusedly, totally ignoring his brother's short-tempered tone, as if just now putting together the source of his discomfort. Fever muddled mess it was then. Man, could Dean relate.

"She said she was going to the kitchen to make soup but she's not there," the younger Winchester mumbled forlornly, the intermitting train of thought regarding footwear totally forgotten in half a second.

"Alright just…" Dean began, getting cut off by Sammy's sudden sneeze.

" _HUHretsheeewww…_ "

"Just go back…" he tried to continue but got interrupted again.

" _Haerrshshshsh…_ "

"Dammit Sam, just stop…" the older brother pleaded, noticing how unsteady Sam got with each one.

" _h'rchshshsh…_ "

"Stop freaking sneezing and go back…" Dean finally had enough and got out of bed, getting his slippers and house robe on to escort him back before he keeled over.

" _hehrAESHSHshsh!_ " the last one shook Sammy to the core and he would have totally lost his balance if Dean hadn't gotten there in time to steady him.

"Alright, tiger, that's enough. You are going back to your room, and you are going to get some damned socks on, while I find out where Stephanie is," the older Winchester said finally, almost amazed that he could get through a full sentence without interruptions, although not quite feeling the energy in himself to actually go through a full search of the Bunker to find out which corner he managed to banish Steph into with his full-scale douchery, undoubtedly causing her to cry her heart out.

Somehow they had made it to Sam's room without toppling over, although both of them were utterly out of breath by the end of this little excursion, which genuinely led to Dean almost coughing a lung up, having to actually sit down on the floor to collect himself. The armchair was too far away, alright? And Sam's freakishly long limbs were everywhere on the bed.

"When was Steph here?" Dean asked finally when he regained control over his breathing, although he still felt like he couldn't pull enough oxygen into his lungs.

"I don't know. Maybe an hour ago," Sam mumbled, his right arm thrown over his eyes, as if trying to block out all the light. Headache then for him too. The explosive sneezes were probably not helping much with that either. And that time frame also meant that meds were out of the question still.

"Alright… just… just stay here," the older Winchester pushed himself off the floor, patting his brother's legs comfortingly, before staggering out to the hallway.

Just as Sam had said, Steph was not in the kitchen, though there were signs that she was about to make something, a few stuff littered across the counters. Where was she then? He fumbled with the pockets of his robe, happy to find he had his phone in there, quickly dialing her number.

She wasn't picking up but from the corridor he could hear the echo of the ringing, so he followed the sound. Which led him to her room. Where she most definitely wasn't.

 _Okay, plan B._ He slowly started going through every room, opening every damned door he encountered, checking the library, the med bay, even the shooting range and archives too. Still no sign of Steph. Meanwhile he was getting progressively alarmed, the adrenalin somewhat helping him to push through the fatigue and general lousiness that came with fevers.

 _Where could she have gone?_ Did she leave the Bunker? By his estimation she has been gone for an hour and a half by now. Just to make sure, he went to the garage, and sure enough her VW was missing. Fuck!

 _Okay, think, dammit, why would she leave?_ He wanted so desperately to believe that it had nothing to do with the way he had acted towards her, that he hadn't made her abandon them, but his fevered mind was just not supplying him with any other alternatives.

 _They had to find her. She could be in danger._ He made his back to Sam's room as fast as he could, cursing his breathlessness to hell and back.

"Sam, get your shit together, Steph is gone," Dean heaved hoarsely, not even waiting for his response before pushing himself off the wall and stumbling back towards his – now actually his own – room to go get dressed.

Sam was very good at operating through being miserably sick, the Trials had assured him of that, he was alert and getting dressed within seconds once the meaning and urgency of Dean's words had hit him and raced to meet his brother on the way to the Impala.

The boys were just stomping up the steps to the garage when the large double doors opened, Steph's car appearing in the driveway.

* * *

Exactly 83 minutes had passed since she left the Bunker and she felt like her return couldn't have come a moment too soon. When she noticed the boys coming up the stairs, fully dressed in plaid and utility jackets, presumably to find her since she was stupid enough leave without even leaving a note stating where she had gone, the weight of the guilt for that fact and the fright she had at the store slammed into her all at once, and she cut the engine right there in the middle of the garage hall.

Steph jumped out of the car, running at full speed towards Dean, tears streaming down her face.

"Hey, where did you… ugh," he began in an admonishingly gruff tone, when the wind was knocked out of him as the girl slammed into his chest, only Sam's helpful hand on his shoulder kept him from landing on his ass, and pulling Steph right along with him. It was a miracle he didn't start coughing right then and there, but something about the situation made his illness back the hell off for a few seconds for which he was immensely grateful.

She was sobbing uncontrollably, holding onto him by the waist as if her life depended on it. Dean shared a look with his brother, worry etched in both of their features, his earlier vexation totally forgotten in favor of comforting his favorite girl.

"Talk to me, baby girl, what happened?" the older Winchester stroked her back soothingly, wondering for a second if that was a gun in her front pocket or if she was just that happy to see him. Then shuddered slightly at the implication. Stupid feverish mind coming up stupid homoerotic jokes. He blamed Ace Ventura.

"I… I went to the store…" Steph recounted, her breathing hitchy and all over the place from the crying. "We were… out of everything… I couldn't even… make a damned soup…"

Alright, at least that answered one question, eased Dean's anxiety on another, but flared up another round of irritation as to why hadn't she let them know, asked one of them to come along… Right, they were not speaking because he had been an ass, and Sam was sleeping as far she knew. Not to mention too sick to go anywhere in her books. Maybe she was counting on the fact that both of them would sleep through the whole thing too. Still… that was awfully reckless. Who knew what was lurking, waiting for the right moment to snatch her. They had no way of knowing for sure if they had managed to keep her involvement with them under wraps.

"And… then… there was this guy…" she continued, effectively pulling Dean back from his admonitory thoughts. "And I thought he… he might be a demon…"

Dean sucked in a large breath at hearing this, unfortunately unable to control his coughing anymore. Sam made a very alarmed face at the news too, meanwhile patting his brother on the back to help him regain composure. Steph glanced up, panicking from their distress.

"No, no, no… He wasn't. _Fuck._ You guys need to get back to your rooms and lie down," the girl managed to snap herself out of the downward spiral of sobs as she saw the state her boys were in. How could she be so selfish? They were both sick and needed her, this wasn't the time to have a freaking meltdown.

"Not going anywhere until we get the full story," Dean declared once he could talk again, but slunk down onto the floor to sit down, deeming it more comfortable than standing around, pulling Steph into his lap with the same motion.

Sam joined them too, being a sympathetic and calming presence on her left, and she just wanted desperately to protest, say that sitting on the cold concrete floor while sick with fevers was like the dumbest idea ever, but Dean effectively shushed her worries by hugging her closely to his chest.

"So, the guy?" he prompted, feeling a strong urge to gut the bastard even if he wasn't a demon, just for the sheer fact that he made Stephanie so terrified from a simple trip to the freaking supermarket. They were paranoid about her safety of course, which seemed to have rubbed off on her too. Not the worst thing, if it kept her safe, but no one should have to be afraid from doing normal every day stuff. That made him question his choice of bringing her into their lives once again.

Of course Sammy would have to choose right that moment to sneeze.

" _huh'reshoo_ " it was even relatively controlled and mild where his sneezes were considered, but Steph went into a tizzy with fussing over him, especially when she noticed that he was wiping his nose on his sleeve, reminding her of one of the many reasons she had to go to the store.

"I bought more tissues. They are in the car," she struggled to get up from Dean's hold to go get them, but he held her down firmly.

"He is a big boy, he can get them himself. Now story time," the older hunter's tone left no room for negotiation, and Steph only hesitated for a second as she watched Sam get up and go for the trunk of her car.

"He was just hitting on me… back in the store…" Steph admitted, casting her eyes down in embarrassment. "And then I went apeshit crazy on him, threatening to shoot him if he didn't leave me alone when he just up and appeared by my car as I was leaving. Apparently he just wanted my number… I still drove like an extra ten miles with detours to make sure I wasn't followed."

"That's my girl," Dean grinned approvingly, first of all because no one got to flirt with his girl and get away with it, secondly because Steph did all the defending all by herself, which made him immensely proud of her. Even if her reactions were over exaggerated, she did the smart things. Sam just now got back to them with a fresh box of Kleenex, snorting slightly at Dean tone. "Still doesn't answer why you thought he was a demon though."

"Uhm… he kept staring at me at the pharmacy isle… and it was just creepy… and I mean look at me, there's nothing to look at. Which made me think there was another reason for his attention, that he could be a demon, possibly knowing my connection to you, and then I just panicked and left as fast as I could…" she rambled on so fast, Dean was starting to have trouble understanding what she was saying.

"Okay, okay, you got spooked, happens with the best of us. But what did you mean by that there's nothing to look at on you?" the older Winchester stopped her, getting back to that one alarmingly self-deprecating bit, which was speaking tons about her self-esteem issues he didn't even know she had.

Steph just gestured to herself, sitting there in her unflattering clothes, with her messed up hair, knowing that having bawled her eyes out just plummeted that picture to an even lower low. No one looked good with red rimmed eyes, tears and snot mixing on their face.

"Stephanie Annabel Holbrook, you listen to me," Dean started with an eerily measured tone, taking her face between his hands to make sure she was paying close attention to his every word. "There is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect just the way you are, and any man would be lucky to have you. Including me."

He wasn't sure where the sudden honesty in that last part came from. He supposed he just couldn't hide it any longer, what with their earlier falling out when he tried to guess at her feelings from weird context clues that didn't even apply to themselves, not to mention that now strangers were trying to make a pass at her, making him feel extremely jealous. Dean just knew it was practically now or never.

Steph's eyes went comically wide, and from the corner of her eye she saw that Sam was already shifting uncomfortably, as if knowing exactly where this was going. She felt an odd sense of relief at the admission, and the corner of her mouth tugged to a tiny smile as she shifted her gaze slightly to Dean's lips, lingering for just a second before looking back into his eyes.

Fortunately Dean knew exactly what _that_ meant. There was no amount of fever and cotton in his brain that would make him forget the universal sign of a girl wanting to get kissed. So he went for it.


	11. Chapter 11

The kiss was sweet and urgent, claiming her mouth fully, melting her insides to syrupy goo. Dean's hands were still around her face, guiding her gently to match his rhythm. Steph wanted it to last forever but the realities quickly wormed their way back into their consciousness.

Sam cleared his throat, whether out of embarrassment and awkwardness caused by having to watch them blatantly making out, or plainly because he was sick and needed to was unclear to them. Still it was enough to get Dean snappy.

"Get lost, Sammy," he muttered hoarsely through a smirk, barely breaking contact before kissing her again.

Sam needn't be told twice, he pushed himself off the floor, coughing and staggering lightly as he managed the precarious stairs leading to the hallway that would eventually guide him back to his room.

For half a moment Steph wanted to speak up and suggest that Dean went and got himself comfortable in bed too, but her worries were quickly overshadowed by expert tongue action. He was so damn distracting!

But like aforementioned, realities and hard facts were difficult to ignore. And Dean was sick, that was a fact.

A few seconds later Dean had to break away, not being able to breathe through his nose, and to make matters worse an insistent tickle decided to invade his sinuses too. Steph noted the change in his expression, first starting to worry if he was having second thoughts about her, or he thought she was a terrible kisser, or something, going by the displeasure and irritation reflected in the crow's feet around his eyes, but then the barely audible hitches in his breath explained everything to her. She actually giggled at the annoyed face he made at her as he desperately tried to avoid sneezing. He ducked his head slightly to his right, sneezing into his shoulder barely out of the way since somehow he just forgot to let go of her face.

 _"_ _eh… HEHH'gkshshshsh"_ his head bobbed, the sneeze wet and harsh. She could practically see the spray and was glad that she was already through this shit, because otherwise she didn't see how she could have avoided catching it. Well, what with the kissing and constantly getting sneezed on.

Steph guided him into an embrace so that he could lay his head on her shoulder. He didn't protest, fatigue on the brink of overtaking him, but soon his shoulders tensed again, lungs expanding with the reflexive need.

" _hksh… hgdnxt… *cough*cough… heh'SHYUUH…_ " he shuddered against her with each, Steph just rubbing circles soothingly into his back while the fit lasted. He snuffled hard to keep nose from running, and Steph wished she had tissues on her. Well, closer than in her car.

"Bless you, baby," the girl murmured, pressing a kiss to his warm temple, the endearment rolling off easily from her tongue. It felt right. Everything felt right, as if all her emotions just clicked into place suddenly. And the need to take care of him just increased tenfold.

He needed to be in bed, under covers, not on the cold, hard floor. She let him have a moment of respite to catch his breath, then slid off his lap to stand, offering her hand to help him up. Dean stared at it for a moment, as if deciding whether his pride allowed him to be pulled off the floor by a woman or not. He gave in finally, letting himself be guided into a standing position, swaying a bit because of the head rush. God, he hated to be sick.

Dean leaned heavily against the railing, shoulders sagging, thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache. He felt like a hundred times worse than just ten minutes ago. True, the adrenalin and worry for Steph was propelling him forward then and now it all but drained from his system.

Steph waited patiently, rubbing the side of his arm affectionately, although he probably barely felt anything of it through the layers and layers of clothing. She was elated to note that he at least tried to be smart about going out when he was this ill, bundling up to avoid getting chilled. She just wished they could have avoided the whole thing altogether.

"Come on, let's get you to bed, okay?" Steph nudged gently, eliciting a muffled groan of agreement, and almost something resembling longing at the mention of fluffy pillows and blankets.

Dean opened his eyes, looking around morosely, as if suddenly remembering something.

"Let me help you with the bags first," he said brusquely, like a man on a mission, undeterrable.

Who knew? Dean had a gentleman lost in him it seemed.

"Dean. I can take care of it. You need to lie down," she tried softly, though she could see there wasn't really any stopping him.

"Nonsense," Dean muttered, or something along those lines as he moved with heavy steps towards her car, shifting through the bags to see which were the heavier ones, then just picked them up and made his way towards the stairs.

 _Stubborn men_ , Steph shook her head to herself. Although at least this way everything could be taken inside with one trip. She sighed heavily as she closed her trunk. So not worth it if he collapses because of it.

* * *

Following the sound of muffled coughs and her common sense, Steph found Dean in the kitchen hunched over as he tried to get his lungs to work. She definitely did not like the sound of those, they seemed to be getting worse – wetter and chestier by the minute – making her believe that the infection was starting to settle into his chest. She wondered vaguely if she should have gotten tiger balm.

Setting down her bags quickly she moved to his side, supporting his weight some as she guided him to one of the chairs, patting him lightly on the back. Slowly he eased back to a normal breathing pattern, looking exhausted.

Steph quickly looked through the bags to see which kind of cough syrup she got, and was pleased to see that somehow – even through her haste and panic – she managed to get both the ones for dry coughs and productive coughs. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same, considering her conflicting moments of luck for this day.

She dosed out the prescribed amount into the tiny cup offering it to Dean. He glanced between her and the vile looking syrupy brownish liquid with a look of abhorrence.

"Come one, don't be such a child. It's…" the cast a quick glance at the box. "Cherry flavored."

That didn't seem to convince him. Alright, two can play at this. If he insists to be infantile, she will treat him like one. She took a teeny tiny sip of it. Actually it wasn't that bad.

"Mhm, you know, it kind of reminds me of cherry pie," Steph lied with an appreciative smack of her lips. Okay, it wasn't that good, but it got Dean's attention immediately. So predictable. Stephanie quickly decided that once the boys were feeling better she would bake a pie for them.

He took the cup and downed the stuff, only making a small grimace. That was something at least.

"Liar," Dean huffed, trying to seem pissed by being tricked, but couldn't quite keep a straight face as he pulled Steph closer to himself by the waist, burrowing his face into her belly. He frowned first when his head hit something hard, and extracted the gun from her front pocket, placing it on the table before returning. He loved that she wasn't all skin and bones and sharp edges, that he could bury himself in her softness.

"Who knows? Maybe I just had terrible pie my entire life," she giggled, playing with his hair.

"We must rectify that situation right away," he mumbled barely audibly, having to cough again.

"Can I please drag you off to bed now?" Steph pleaded, her hands never stopping their soothing rounds. She had to wonder how he wasn't about to ignite under all these layers of clothing though. She just had that hoodie on over her loose top and she was sweating.

"Depe _ns_ – _ehkshoo…_ depends on what we are doing once we get there," the older Winchester wiggled his eyebrow at her, unfazed by the unexpected sneeze that snuck up on his midsentence, just keeping up the flirting, seemingly unable to stop once he allowed himself to start.

Steph laughed out, getting a sudden urge to feel his forehead to see just how feverish he was, but honestly this was just plain Dean.

"Always the charmer," she huffed lovingly, kissing the top of his head.

Steph moved to quickly put the chicken and the other perishables in the fridge, then held her hand out invitingly to her sick man and finally dragged him to her room with any words of protest from him, as if that was naturally his place to be.

After peeling him out of his outside clothes, and some failed attempts on his part at wooing her, she finally got him to lie down. He was seriously out within seconds of his head hitting the pillow. Steph would have loved to get his temperature and see if there was need to stuff more meds in him, but maybe rest was actually better for now.

* * *

She decided to check in on Sam too. He was totally conked out, still fully dressed, and sprawled over his bed above the covers as if he just passed out right there. Steph's brows creased and she worried her lips at the sight of that as she entered the room.

The girl placed the back of her hand against his forehead. He was burning up. Good thing she bought Advil because they have been taking NyQuil so far, which essentially contains Tylenol and it didn't seem to be doing anything for their fevers. But that would have to wait some more time too, only about two hours had passed since she gave him pills earlier.

"Sam…" Steph coaxed him awake. "You need to get out of these clothes, you are overheating yourself."

His face scrunched up in discomfort at being woken, but listlessly tried to comply with the instruction given, albeit attempted to do so without actually sitting up. It would have been immensely adorable hadn't he been so sick. Steph helped, snorting half in amusement, half in horrification when she realized just how many layers he had on. Worse than Dean. One utility jacket, a hoodie, then the plaid shirt, and a Henley over which he had added a T-shirt for good measure. Jesus Christ, no wonder he was like a furnace. She didn't even bother with trying to get his cooperation with the boots and jeans, he was so out of it.

"Cold…" he mumbled through clattering teeth, shivering slightly when Steph had him down to just the Henley and boxer briefs, ushering him to get under the covers. Now she had such a guilt trip over letting Dean fool around with her when Sam was so ill.

"I know, I'm sorry," she fretted, relieved that at least she already had the water basin and cloth prepared by his bed from earlier.

She placed that over his brows, only making him shudder. _Shit_ , she knew letting him bundle up with the blanket wasn't a good idea, but shivering was just as much elevating his temperature. She compromised with having the cover up to his shoulder.

Worst of all she was in no position to try and get him into a cooling bath alone, she just wasn't strong enough, so wiping down his forehead, the side of his face and neck, and his upper chest with cool water had to be enough. The most heartbreaking aspect about the whole thing was that he pliantly let her do whatever she saw fit, no matter his discomfort.

Steph stuck the thermometer into his mouth too, desperately wanting a number, while she continued her ministrations to try and get him to cool down. When it beeped finally, she eagerly took it from his mouth to see, as if those mere fractions of a second counted. Holy schlamoley… 104.3.

 _Fuck drug interactions_ , she decided, and ran out of the room to the kitchen to get the Advil from one of the shopping bags and rushed back to Sam, sliding an arm under his neck.

"Come on… work with me… that's it…" Steph managed to get him to half sit up, making him to swallow two pills along with half a glass of water, then let him settle back down.

She continued with the sort of sponge bath for half an hour, wondering if Sam was conscious for any of this, his breathing hasn't exactly leveled out, and whimpered almost inaudibly now and then. After a while longer he seemed marginally cooler, maybe even asleep, so she didn't want to wake him by checking his tempt for real again. She let him rest with the washcloth parked on his forehead.

* * *

Steph sighed heavily as she stepped back onto the hallway, pondering on what to do. The boys were obviously really sick, and they got so much worse so fast. She was willing to give them 24 hours, but if they were not at least marginally better by then… Her train of thought was interrupted by another idea, as she remembered Dean's move. Suddenly it made complete sense to her why he had called Cas.

She checked her pocket, finding that her phone wasn't in there. _Oh fuck_ , she just now realized why Sam and Dean were so freaked out. She didn't even take her phone with her to the store! How could she be so stupid?

Quietly she entered her room, instantly spotting her cell on the nightstand, grabbing it and exiting before she could disturb Dean. One missed call from him, with which he probably realized that she didn't have the damned thing with her.

Moving back to the kitchen to finally start the chicken noodle soup – the source of all of this turmoil – she dialed Castiel's number. It went straight to voicemail. _Dammit…_ she sighed, before starting to speak after the tone.

"Hey Cas, uh, it's Stephanie. Look, I know it's very hypocritical of me, and it's asking a lot… but if you can, please, stop by the Bunker. Sam and Dean are really sick. With the same thing what I had probably…" she exhaled again, rubbing her eyes that started to tear up from the stress. "It just hit them so fast… their fevers are really high… and I'm not sure I'm enough… anyway… if you can't come that's okay too, just let me know so that I know to just take them to the doctor's if they get any worse. Okay. Bye."

Steph let out a shaky breath as she hung up, cursing herself for being so weak, emotionally and physically at the moment. She had taken care of her brother and sisters a ton of times in the past when they were young. She was the oldest, with a ten year gap between her and Peter, and twelve between her and the twins, Charlotte and Evelyn, so it posed her no problem whatsoever to haul them around sitting on her hips to the bathroom to take baths or wherever when they just felt clingy. Their parents had to work a lot so it often times became her responsibility to stay home from school when the little ones were sick. Money was tight, so this was the next best option.

Yeah, that won't work with two over six-foot-tall guys, however hard she wanted. If they weren't at least partially conscious and cooperating there was no way she could move them.

She flicked through her music player on her phone, looking for some pick me up as background noise as she worked on making soup. Her lips curled into a tiny smile as noticed one of the titles, and she instantly knew this was what she needed, quickly putting it on repeat.

 _Ramblers in the wilderness we can't find what we need_

 _We get a little restless from the searching_

 _Get a little worn down in between_

 _Like a bull chasing the matador is the man left to his own schemes_

 _Everybody needs someone beside em' shining like a lighthouse from the sea_

She had heard this song many times in the past, on the radio and everywhere, but it has never been more meaningful to her than now, after meeting the brothers.

 _Brother, let me be your shelter_

 _Never leave you all alone_

 _I can be the one you call_

 _When you're low_

 _Brother, let me be your fortress_

 _When the night winds are driving on_

 _Be the one to light the way_

 _Bring you home_

Not to mention after having read the Supernatural books. Those cleared up so much regarding their dynamic that had Stephanie baffled at first.

 _Face down in the desert now there's a cage locked around my heart_

 _I found a way to drop the keys where my failures were_

 _Now my hands can't reach that far_

 _I ain't made for a rivalry I could never take the world alone_

 _I know that in my weakness I am strong, but_

 _It's your love that brings me home_

Okay, she might have misjudged the "pick me up" quality, because she was struggling to keep from crying, and no it wasn't the onions. Damn the feels.

 _Brother, let me be your shelter_

 _Never leave you all alone_

 _I can be the one you call_

 _When you're low_

 _Brother, let me be your fortress_

 _When the night winds are driving on_

 _Be the one to light the way_

 _Bring you home_

Sam and Dean had been through so much together. Steph honestly believed she would never understand that level of devotion. She loved her family dearly, but it just wasn't like this.

 _And when you call and need me near_

 _Sayin' where'd you go?_

 _Brother, I'm right here_

 _And on those days when the sky begins to fall_

 _You're the blood of my blood_

 _We can get through it all_

She also didn't believe that family ended in blood. She might not have had such a bond with her family, but the Winchesters had wormed themselves into her heart like no one else had. Maybe she understood after all. Yeah, together they could get through it all.

* * *

 **A/N: Song is NEEDTOBREATHE ft. Gavin DeGraw - Brother. Truly awesome full of SPN feels. Check it out.**


	12. Chapter 12

A hacking cough drew Steph's attention to the kitchen entrance when she was just about done with preparing everything for the soup, and there stood Dean, glorious even with the serious case of cow's lick he had going on at the right side of his head and the dark circles under his eyes. He looked so exhausted it wasn't even funny.

Secretly Steph found the fact that he couldn't sneak up on her at the moment very satisfying, though she would not dare say that out loud to him, and even felt a bit ashamed of considering something delightful in his misery.

"Why are we listening to Christian rock?" he muttered in half-hearted annoyance, wincing a little around his sore throat. His voice was much rougher than just two hours ago when he had lied down, probably due to all the coughing he had been doing.

She had listened to _Brother_ , which was still playing, for like the twentieth time in a row by now, just about knowing the lyrics by heart, even the verses.

"Because it rocks?" Steph shrugged with a nonchalant smirk, drying her hands on the kitchen towel after placing the lid on the pot. Now it was just a matter of waiting for it all to cook together on low heat.

"Haha. Funny," Dean remarked sardonically, slumping into one of chairs, then shuddered slightly as the need to sneeze overtook him, cupping his face. " _HAEH'ktschuu…ugh"_

"How are you feeling?" the girl appraised him with a watchful as he propped his head in one of his palms, barely keeping his posture upright. He looked so shivery and miserable. At least he threw on that house robe over his sleeping clothes. Still, being up and about was not a good idea in her opinion.

"Like crap," he moaned pitifully, closing his eyes, fully past the point of trying to look tough.

"Then what are you doing out of bed, sweetie?" Steph asked softly, coming to stand beside him, placing a hand at the back of his neck, which was radiating _so_ much heat. His fever must have been pretty bad too. How he was still coherent?

"Lonely," the older Winchester offered the simple explanation, but she had a feeling that there was more to it. Probably nightmares.

She really needed to find out just how worse off he was, fortunately remembering that they had a first aid kit in the kitchen too, which should have an extra thermometer, even if the old mercury kind that you had to wait like five minutes on to get a reading. Just had to be careful not to break it.

Steph reluctantly let go of Dean to scour for the instrument – not wanting to go farther, like into their room for the other one – and he almost fell out of the chair desperately trying to maintain the contact between them before he readjusted himself, placing his head down on the cool tabletop. It actually felt kind of nice against his overheated skin.

"Here," the girl offered the thermometer a few seconds later, earning a quirked brow of skepticism from Dean at the ancient thing.

"Wow," he muttered in a smart-alecky way, coughing lightly as the air caught in his throat.

"I'm a woman of many wonders," Steph smiled at him amusedly, her cheeky side showing in response to the banter.

"Mhm… Wonder Woman?" Dean sighed, a loopy little smile worming its way onto his face too.

"Only if you are Batman," she quipped, recalling that particular pairing from the DC universe, marveling – _ha!_ pun intended – at the streak of geekiness the older Winchester possessed. Cowboys, everything Western and Batman for the most part. Honestly he had no right to call Sam, Charlie and her out on their brands of fandoms, when he was almost as bad with others.

"Yeah… I'm Batman," the hunter drawled his words slightly, sniggering – which of course then made him cough again – as he recalled a particularly funny case they had with a cursed rabbit foot like seven or eight years ago. He really felt like Batman with all the luck he had.

"Sure you are, honey," Steph cooed, chuckling to herself. "Now, open up."

Dean warily eyed the thing a little bit again before complying, his face in a frown until Stephanie returned her hand into his hair. How much just a small touch could do. After she deemed that enough time had passed she removed the tube of glass from his mouth, noting that he himself was at 103.5, which wasn't all that much better than his brother's. Steph rustled around with her free hand in the shopping bags still unpacked on the table, finding another box of Advil. Yeah, she wasn't kidding about just grabbing a bunch of whatever that was in front of her and getting out of there like a bat from hell.

Steph offered two pills to Dean too, moving to pour him a glass of water when he just dry swallowed them, almost choking. It seemed like he was in need of constant supervision, clearly not learning from earlier mistakes. He took the glass from her greedily, gulping down the water to ease the tightness in his throat.

"Alright, the bed awaits," Steph ushered him. "I'll come lie down with you after I check on Sam."

"I…" he cleared his throat painfully as it cracked against his attempt at speaking. "I'll come with."

Based on the look on his face he really didn't want to stay alone. Yeah, definitely nightmares, or more like fever dreams. Those were the worst. Still Steph couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at his mulish way of pushing through when all his body wanted to do was just to crash.

* * *

Sam was passed out in the exact same position in which Steph had left him, his brows just a tiny bit furrowed in discomfort, mouth slack as he snored. Dean quickly collapsed in the armchair while he waited for her.

The younger Winchester stirred instantly when she removed the towel from his forehead and placed a hand against his face, squinting up at her a bit mystified.

"Hey," he muttered groggily through his parched mouth. He looked somewhat better, not as warm and alert at least, although his voice was so stuffed up and congested Steph had to wonder how he was breathing through it at all. The answer to that was that he wasn't.

"Hey to you too, welcome back to the land of the living," she chuckled, giving him the half empty glass of water that was still on the bedside table from earlier.

Sam propped himself up on his elbows, gratefully accepting the offered drink, before noticing that something was definitely different about himself compared to the last time he had memory of, which was somewhere around the time they were sitting on the floor of the garage.

"Did sombeonde… did you undress mbe?" the younger Winchester mumbled confusedly as he took his attire in with a quick peek under his blanket. Yeah, he definitely didn't have pants on, but did not dare to voice that with Dean present. Sam knew how irrational he could get when it came to his women.

"You were boiling, Sam. You had a fever of over 104," Steph stated matter-of-factly, almost feeling the surge of jealous possessiveness from Dean at the fact that she in a position where she had to take Sam's clothes off, mixed in with immense worry at his brother's health, pounding against the back of her head.

"Oh," was all Sam said as acknowledgement, not remembering anything at all from the hour during which Steph diligently sat by his side with the wet washcloth. He reached for the tissues, trying to blow his nose, but he was utterly blocked up, his eyes and face hurting from the effort. _Great_ , he thought sarcastically.

"What? Why didn't you wake me or something?" Dean snapped at Steph, suddenly alert, wincing a little as he hurt his throat, but his tone was accusatory nonetheless.

"Anyway, I need to see where you are at now," she pointedly ignored him and kept her attention on Sam as she handed him the thermometer, because honestly what _could_ have he done, had she dragged him out of bed? Wrestle Sam out of his clothes? Probably, but she was able to that by herself too. Dean was in no shape to carry around his 200-pound brother either. So what would had been the point if they wouldn't have been able to get Sam to the bathtub even between the two of them? Getting Dean even sicker from the exertion? No, thank you!

"Stephanie…" the older Winchester growled, his temper flaring.

"Shush. Some people are actually trying to rest in here, if you can't keep quiet you can go wait for me in the other room too," the girl quipped over her shoulder, trying to keep her voice level, since yelling wouldn't help anything. Her patience was wearing thin too, but she didn't want to outright call him out on the bullshit of his current overprotectiveness.

"This isn't a joke, dammit!" Dean barked, as if specifically trying to push her buttons. She hated when he got all alpha male-y on her.

"Do I look like I'm laughing? I took care of him, his temp is down," Steph said with a sigh, utterly tired of this conversation already. Seriously, not ten minutes ago everything was so easy and light between the two of them. Where had that disappeared to?

"Hey, I'mb sitting right here…" Sam mumbled around the instrument in his mouth in discontentment for being argued about like a child whose parents were on the brink of divorce, his words seemingly falling on deaf ears.

"I called Cas, if he doesn't come or you guys are not at least marginally better by tomorrow morning we are going to the doctor's to get you some antibiotics or something," she announced levelly, somehow still keeping it together and not shouting as she secretly wanted to. "End of discussion. Neither of you are in any shape to help me with getting the other to a cooling bath anyway so stop freaking fussing and let me do my best."

Sam had the decency to stay quiet and see the common sense in her words, casting a wary glance to his brother, while Dean just huffed angrily and stormed out of the room. Well, as much someone with a fever of 103 could storm out. More like staggered. He was so damned moody. Worse than usual.

Coming as a welcome distraction, Sam's thermometer beeped and she was happy to see that it was down to 101.9. Yay for Advil. It worked. Or the "sponging" did. It didn't matter which, she was just happy that his brain wasn't frying itself anymore.

"Are you hungry at all? I'll have soup ready in about a half an hour," Steph asked forcing herself not to dwell on Dean and just remain in a bubble of calm where everything was fine, and she could just concentrate on taking care of her sick boys.

"Yea _h… huh… huh'rgnxchshshsh…_ " he sneezed congestedly into the tissue he still had balled up in his hand, the pressure behind his eyes making his face hurt like hell for a moment. He tried to blow his nose again, but still nothing.

"Sinuses?" Steph watched him knowingly as he gave her just the tiniest bit of a nod before sneezing again.

" _HUH'gdnxsheew… heh… eh'gkrshooo…uh_ "

Sam looked like his head was ready to explode. Yeah, definitely dragging him to a clinic tomorrow.

"Soupb's awesombe," he mumbled after finally giving up on trying to clear his nose, and just lying back down against his pillows, thinking that maybe the steam from that would loosen this blasted congestion a bit too.

"I'll bring in a bowl as soon as it's ready," Steph stood, patting his leg comfortingly, bracing herself to go and find where Dean had gone off to brood.

"Uhb, please go easy ond himb, he is just ndot feeligg well," Sam glanced at her sheepishly.

"I know. Don't worry, he'll get some TLC too, so he doesn't feel left out," she chuckled, truly amazed at how they would always have each other's backs. And honestly she could have handled Dean better earlier.

* * *

As it turned out Dean didn't go far at all, just right next door into her room, huddled into bed with his arms crossed in front of his chest, looking all stoic and macho. From the doorway, for all intents and purposes it seemed like he was asleep but Steph couldn't imagine how anyone could sleep like that.

She slipped in under the blanket beside him, noting that his breathing wasn't all leveled out. Not asleep then.

"Can we move past this? Sam is okay now. There's nothing you could have done to help me besides worrying and nagging, and you need to focus on getting better yourself, alright?" Steph tried with the voice of reason, all remnants of her earlier irritation gone.

"I hate this," Dean admitted, opening his eyes, but relaxing his rigid posture.

"I know," she sighed, understanding his need to be there for his brother very much and his frustration at being unable to do so as well. She opened her arms invitingly. "C'mere, let me get you dosed up on all my caring."

"Psht, you make me sound like an addict," he huffed but snuggled up to her, placing his head on her chest anyway, letting her get her fingers work their magic against his skull. The heat from his skin hit her immediately, enveloping her in a mini sauna. Hopefully the Advil will work for him too soon.

"In a way we are all addicted to love. Blame the chemicals in our brains if you want, but I think we just all need someone beside us shining like a lighthouse from the sea," Steph offered her on the spot philosophy, knowing full well just how cheesy that sounded.

Dean snorted. "You've been listening to that song way too much."

Steph had to smile at the fact that enough of the lyrics had stuck with him that he knew what she was talking about. He paid attention to her and her likes then.

"Doesn't make it any less true," the girl gibed good-humoredly.

"Alright, enough of the chick flick moment," the older Winchester griped as if he was offended by all this open show of emotion. For some reason Steph got the impression that under all those layers of tough façade he actually enjoyed them, practically craved them too from time to time, like there was no other way to clear the air after a rough fight.

He started coughing again, angling his face downward towards her stomach as he tried to control it to avoid coughing towards her face, causing Stephanie's brows to furrow further and further in concern with every second it lasted.

"Yeah, a trip to a doctor is not a half-bad idea," Steph mused out loud, her fingers skimming down along his spine as she tried to soothe him. She wasn't sure if the slight shiver that ran through him was due to pleasure or the chills from the fever so she brought the blanket up closer around his shoulders.

"Please, this is nothing," he scoffed before sniffling. "I'll be up and running by tomorrow."

"Aye, you would be more convincing if I couldn't practically hear the air rustling in your lungs with every breath you take," she chided mildly, laying her head down on top of his as she hugged him. There was no deterring her from tomorrow's plans. She just really hoped it wasn't turning into pneumonia. Those were scary.

"Every move you make…" Dean deflected by humming that popular The Police song.

" _Aaand_ now we are getting into stalker territory," the girl laughed out humorlessly.

"Come one, it's a classic," the hunter frowned against her chest, not understanding her passionate dislike.

"I thought you said soft rock was… well… _soft_ … and seriously those lyrics creep me out. _I'll be watching you…_ Brrrr. If you ask me that freaking song was Stephanie Meyer's whole inspiration for Edward's character in Twilight," Steph kept ranting on, gesticulating wildly with her hand that wasn't wrapped around Dean.

"Alright, you win, just don't bring up the sparkly fairy-vampires," he muttered, relenting to her will, pulling her even closer by her waist. "Maybe this fever is melting my brain into a mush."

"All's forgiven," she smiled fondly. "Get some shut eye, there'll be soup waiting for you on the other end."


	13. Chapter 13

It was 3 PM when Steph cuddled up with Dean. Somehow she managed to fall right asleep along with him. It had been an emotionally taxing day so far, and she had also been kind of rushed off her feet with having to take care of two very ill Winchesters, so it was understandable that she was tired.

She startled awake some time later, still enveloped in Dean's fever warmth, feeling way too smothered and sweaty, but that was okay, there wasn't any place she would rather be. With a quick kiss to the forehead she ascertained that his skin wasn't as hot as before. Still way too high for her liking, but definitely a win.

She fumbled awkwardly around on the nightstand for her phone, trying not to jostle Dean in the process. Steph promptly freaked when she saw the time. _6 PM? Oh, shit! The soup!_

She tried to extract herself from Dean's snakelike arms without waking him, but that was like mission impossible. He instantly groaned in discontent at the loss of body heat by his side, started coughing, and from that point there was no escaping without notice.

"What… where's the fire?" he rasped, looking around disorientedly, rubbing his face lazily.

"Shh, baby, nothing's wrong, just gotta go check on the soup," Steph whispered calmly to him, stroking his hair, because even if all her hard work had gone out the window and the soup was ruined, there was no need to alarm him. "Go back to sleep."

"Mhm, 'kay," Dean waved to her aloofly to go and do her thing, settling back in bed by hugging the pillow tightly that still had her scent lingering on it, which was comforting even though he couldn't really smell anything at the moment.

Steph didn't wait around to admire just how freaking adorable he was at that moment. She practically sprinted to the kitchen, only to find that the rose-burner had been turned off underneath the pot, the soup sitting there, ready, almost cool enough by now to be put in the fridge. What the…? Has she been sleep walking or something?

Suddenly it occurred to her that she had left a load of laundry in the washer too, way back in the morning, having totally forgotten to transfer the clothes to the dryer with everything that had been going. The wrinkles were going to be a bitch to iron out… well, if any of them actually cared to bother with such things on their regular clothes (FBI threads were another matter), but maybe this time she really needed to check to see if they needed ironing.

She made her way to the laundry room, and there too, somehow magically everything was sorted out, the batch of clothes were sitting in the dryer – not the washer as she anticipated – completely dry and toasty as if the cycle had just recently finished. Baffled by these turn of events, Steph haphazardly unloaded the garments into a basket, taking them with her to fold later.

And then it finally dawned on her. _Sam!_ Steph blamed her inability to catch on faster on the fact that she was still half-asleep. Damn, he must have been wandering around picking up her slack after she hadn't brought him the soup as she had promised. _Dammit!_

She hurried back to his room, wanting to check on him, only to find that he wasn't there. For a second she almost panicked, then realized there was one other place he could be that wouldn't warrant an overreaction. And sure enough Steph walked in on him dozing on the couch in their living area, the TV droning on as background noise on some science channel. There was also a half-finished bowl of soup on the coffee table. Hopefully it was edible and only his fever induced loss of appetite kept him from finishing it.

Steph quietly placed the basket down and tiptoed her way to Sam's blanket covered form. He looked so peaceful, she didn't want to wake him. As she tried to slink away his nose scrunched up suddenly, his head snapping forward with a loud sneeze, barely angled downwards enough for it to be smothered into the blanket.

" _HUH'raegxgsheeeewwww!_ "

Steph literally almost jumped from being startled by the thundering noise. Before she could even recover, he sneezed again, this time having enough forewarning to cover with his hands.

" _ehh'gxghshshsh… ugh *cough*_ " he looked so miserable, wincing with every sneeze.

"Bless you," Steph offered, and now it was Sam's turn to be startled, not having realized that he wasn't alone in the room anymore.

"Oh, I didnd't se _ehe– hee…_ see you there… _haekraechshshsh…_ " that one had been wet as hell, putting Sam in sort of a tough spot with the mess and Steph didn't see any tissues around either.

"Hold on a sec," she said, rushing out to hunt down a box of Kleenex, hearing Sam's muffled _'Thangks'_ against his palms.

Steph returned with one from the kitchen – she _really_ needed to put the stuff away from those shopping bags already, geez – opening up the top and handing it to Sam.

From the sound of it, his nose was just as stuffed up as before, and she could see him flinch in pain. Even if the soup did help loosen his congestion, the effects were long gone by now. Speaking of which…

"Thanks for the help, by the way, sorry I left you hanging with that soup," Steph apologized, scratching the back of her head in embarrassment as she sat down by his side.

"Ndo worries, I was feeligg better add you guys just looked too cute, all snduggly, to disturb," Sam smirked goofily and just a tiny bit teasingly. They had a shipper it seemed.

But seriously… couldn't either of them STAY PUT for longer than two minutes to actually rest up and not make themselves feel that much more worse in the long run?

"Was? As in not anymore?" she reached to his face to tuck away a wayward lock of hair behind his ear, using the same opportunity to gauge his temperature. It was probably back up somewhat. See? This is what she was talking about. Though that could have been from the meds wearing off and it being later in the day. In any case the fact that they couldn't keep their temps below 102 without being dosed up on antipyretics, even then only barely, was really worrisome.

Sam just shrugged, a shiver running through him, another testament to being really feverish and chilled.

"Aw, you really shouldn't have, especially the laundry, that could have waited," the girl cooed, rubbing his arm and shoulder that were exposed to the room temperature. "Do you want to go back to bed?"

"Mbight be a good idea," he agreed, pushing himself into a sitting position with a groan, then suddenly ducking his head to the side, away from Steph. " _eh… ehk'rgxgheh!_ … ugh… I'mb so tired of sdeezigg."

"I know," Steph replied with a sympathetic smile, helping him up into a standing position and readjusting the covers around his shoulders. She almost snorted in approval when she saw that he had put on some sweatpants. "Do you want more soup?"

Sam gave her just the tiniest bit of a nod – well that answered that, it couldn't have been that bad if he wanted seconds – although furrowing his brows because even the slightest forward tilt of his head increased the pressure in his sinuses.

"You are too good to us," he mumbled honestly as he was guided back by supporting hands to his own room, abandoning the box of Kleenex in the library, since he had another one in his room.

* * *

The rest of the evening went by pretty fast and relatively eventlessly with feeding soup to the boys, making sure they were medicated, hydrated and their fevers not too high, tidying up – like getting rid of all the used tissues that were scattered all over their beds and rooms and even the library, which quite frankly was just plain gross, but Steph couldn't get them to use the damned trash cans that she had strategically placed by their beds no matter how many times she reminded them – getting those clothes folded, and she herself getting something to eat finally. Not to mention the groceries and all the other stuff ended up in their designated placed too.

She was absolutely beat. Dreamland claimed her pretty quickly despite the loud snoring beside her when she ultimately crawled into bed beside Dean around 11 PM.

That little afternoon nap turned out to be a blessing disguise, since – if you haven't already guessed – sleep wasn't something you got too much of when you had sick people to take care of.

Stephanie woke to the bed shaking, at first not even understanding what was going on, then noticed the source of the problem. Dean coughing his lungs up but trying to stay quiet to avoid waking her.

She stroked him lightly at the base of his back, letting him know that she was awake, before sitting up herself and moving her hand up further to rub the area between his shoulder blades, which thankfully instantly resulted in him not trying to suppress the coughs anymore. His shirt was drenched in sweat, which would have been a good thing if his fever had broken, but she saw no sign of that.

"Sorry," Dean croaked between coughs.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're sick. You have nothing to be sorry for," Steph muttered, her voice still thick with sleep. She fumbled around for the switch of the bedside lamp, temporarily blinding them both for a second when she found it, checking the time on her phone, then went and got him some more water.

By the time she returned he was done coughing, at least for now, and instead had a distant look in his eyes, mouth hanging a bit slack.

" _Ah… haeh… hah… hah… HAH'ktsheewww!... uh_ " he sneezed into the crook of his arm after a prolonged build up, leaving him pretty dazed afterwards and coughing again.

"Bless you," Steph said, offering him some Kleenex before sitting back down on the bed, carefully watching Dean as he blew his nose, trying to anticipate what he needed. Cough syrup for sure.

He hadn't been giving her anymore grief over medicine, pliantly complying with her ministrations, which honestly was a bit scary since it seemed so out of character for him. She had already made her resolve for the morning's activities long ago, but every passing hour just cemented it even more. Especially since Cas still hadn't bothered to call her back yet.

Dean downed the offered cup of liquid medication, shuddering at the taste, coughing only lightly this time.

"Man, I feel gross," he groaned, laying his head down in his arms, which were resting on his pulled up knees.

"Do you want to take a shower?" she asked, wondering if that would make him feel better, not just with the ickyness, but if she managed to convince him to keep it on the tepid side then with lowering the fever as well.

Dean seriously considered it but decided that he just simply did not have the stamina to keep himself upright for a shower, nor to get himself out of the bathtub afterwards if he just took a bath instead, and didn't really want to ask for help with it.

"Maybe in the morning," the older Winchester voiced his verdict, looking pretty sleepy again.

"Okay," Steph said, given that morning wasn't all that far away, arranging the pillows behind his back in a way that would keep his upper body somewhat elevated, hopefully making his breathing easier while he slept.

That was a big waste of effort because Dean just turned on his side and laid his head on her chest anyway, practically purring with gratified pleasure when she began running circles into his skin on his back.

* * *

Steph was up before Dean around 7:30 AM, and even managed to get a shower of her own, which was absolutely freaking fantastic after spending the night with a sticky sickie. She didn't mind, if it made him more comfortable, but the chance to get cleaned up afterwards still felt glorious. Dean was still dead to the world when she got out so she went over to check on Sam first.

He was sitting up in bed, pillow propped against his headboard, reading a book. She instantly recognized the cover and wondered for a moment when exactly Sam had gotten his hands on it. Maybe yesterday afternoon when he caught Dean and her sleeping entwined in each other. It was her copy of Hounded, the first of the Iron Druid Chronicles that best to her knowledge should have been in her room, on the dresser or something, not knowing exactly where Dean had put it last after reading to her.

"Hey, how are you this morning?" Steph asked with a smirk, casting a knowing glance to the reading material in his hands, watching him squirm a bit at getting caught with her book. She was just glad that soon she would have another fan to discuss it with. "Don't worry, you can have it."

"Sambe I guess," he shrugged, relieved that he was off the hook. His face was still awfully pale lest the flush of his cheeks and the angry red of his abused nose. And he still sounded terrible.

"Fever?" she inquired further, coming up to his side to assess him for herself, testing out his temperature with her hand. The way he flinched when she touched his face didn't evade her attention either. That wasn't good.

She wasn't expecting a number from him, just some whine and gripe about how he was feeling, but of course she wasn't going to scoff at having an exact figure.

"102.8," Sam revealed dejectedly. He took it right after he had woken up, hoping for it to show something better already, but alas that wasn't the case.

For a morning temp that was pretty bad. But better than the fever he spiked again around 10 PM last night.

"Have you taken anything?" Steph was about to reach for the meds to give him, when Sam nodded slightly.

He was in a self-sufficient mood today it seemed. Again, she was not going to complain as long as he stayed in bed for the most part with all that self-sufficiency.

"Okay, put some clothes on, we are going to the clinic. I'll get Dean up too," the girl instructed, knowing that there should be an urgent care or something open from around 8 AM in Smith Center.

"What? Why?" Sam asked in bewilderment.

"Because I think you have a fairly bad sinus infection while Dean is on his way to bronchitis or pneumonia, and you are both in need of antibiotics," Steph used her no nonsense tone again.

Okay, she didn't have a medical degree, but she had seen her fair share of respiratory infections with her siblings to know and recognize the possible outcomes when applicable.

"But…" he tried to protest weakly, knowing that she was right. That and he had to sneeze. " _haeh'rshshsh… HUH'kraetshoum_ "

Going out with two pretty much incapacitated hunters, especially the Winchesters, had its risks. But them being bedridden for weeks was a lot more devastating. First of all they were already going stir crazy, which would only escalate into them doing exhausting stuff before they are fully recovered, maybe even going hunting, secondly the world might stop spinning if they didn't do their jobs. Alright, that was an over exaggeration, but lives still could be in danger and in need of saving. So Steph was making an executive decision.

"No, buts," she put her foot down. "As long as you are in my care, I'm calling the shots."

Yeah, good luck running that logic by Dean when trying to convince him to go to the doctor's. He didn't go to a hospital unless he was on the brink of bleeding out, or needed a cast or something, they usually just patched themselves up. A little virus wasn't medical attention worthy in his books. Well, she could argue that it could be more than just a virus…

In either case, Sam didn't put up a fight after that.

* * *

She stepped into their room, finding Dean in a semi-conscious state, floating between dreamland and reality.

"Dean," Steph gently woke him by running her hand through his hair.

"Mhm…" he mumbled reluctantly, scrunching up his eyes to avoid the inevitable, but still leaning into her touch.

"Honey, wake up. I need you to get dressed," she said. That instantly got his attention.

"What? Why?" Dean frowned at her with squinting eyes, anticipating some kind of crisis to be averted. She had to actually laugh out at his reaction that was exactly mirroring Sam's, which just caused him to be even more confused.

"Time to pay a visit to a doctor," the girl stated with a tone that suggested that she wasn't going to budge.

His reasons to protest weren't exactly what she was expecting. Maybe he really did feel shitty enough to actually go, just his pride got in the way of saying so. That was heartbreaking in itself.

"We can't. Low on cash, credit cards maxed out," the older Winchester sighed defeatedly as he recalled that they were very much in the need of doing something about that. Unfortunately he went into a coughing fit right after, which wasn't really helping his case. _You were saying?_

"Good thing I have money of my own then," Steph commented with a cheeky smile, quickly going to her dresser to get her satchel and dump her wallet into it before she forgot, along with her phone and IDs.

"Stephanie… we can't accept it, you need that for emergencies," he knew that she wasn't the kind of girl to go and hustle people in bars. There was always a possibility that they wouldn't return from a hunt and Steph needed something to fall back on if that scenario came to be. They had talked about 'protocols' on what to do if she couldn't even reach them for a certain amount of time.

"Well, I think, if my boys are sick and in need of a doctor that pretty much constitutes as an emergency," she remarked flippantly, really not listening to his bullshit reasons. If things came to the worst, she could always find a job, distance herself from the supernatural world until she got back on her feet financially. Or even do that without leaving. She had been trained enough to defend herself in need, if she could just not chicken out like yesterday. Of course, she would never actively seek out a hunt. That would just be reckless.

"Ugh… you are impossible," Dean fell back against the bed, seemingly out of arguments to make.

"Take a shower if you want, then get dressed," Steph said, sensing her victory. "Or do you need help?"

"No! Go get the car ready or something," he grunted in dismay. He felt somewhat more capable than a few hours ago, so he believed he could manage alone.

 _Oh, yeah… cars._ The Winchesters definitely wouldn't fit comfortably into her little Beetle, she realized. _Shit._ She'd just have to go see what else was in the garage from the MoL arsenal. Though those haven't been serviced for decades...

Dean noticed her hesitation, deducing the reason for it correctly.

"We can take the Impala. You drive, keys are in the ignition," the older Winchester allowed, knowing full-well that neither he nor Sam were in any shape to operate heavy machinery. Cars definitely constituted as such.

"W-what? Seriously? You are going to let me drive Baby?" the girl gaped in surprise. That was a huge deal. One she couldn't even believe was happening yet.

"Uhm, I trust you," Dean admitted, probably blushing a bit too, but it was masked by the fever flush. Steph just hoped this wasn't a lapse in judgment on his part due to his elevated temperature.

"Wow... uhm… thank you…" she gushed, suddenly self-conscious herself.

"You do know how drive stick, right?" he looked at her scrutinizingly, misreading the reason for her reaction.

"Of course I do! Country girl, remember?" Steph laughed out. She hadn't even seen an automatic car until she was twenty.

"Good _hih…_ _haeh'kshshshooh_ …" the sneeze caught him by surprise, feeling the need to repeat himself. "Good."

"Bless you," she hurried up to him, lovingly kissing him on the cheek, before going back and pulling up a pair of jeans, throwing on a hoodie and rushing out the door to arrange everything for departure.

She packed some crackers and water in her bag, just in case, along with lots of travel pack tissues, then rushed off into the garage to park her own car out of the way, since she it was still in the middle of the driveway ever since coming back yesterday.

Steph then stood there for a moment in front of the black classic beauty, admiring her. _Yeah, this was happening._ She was about to go back and get the boys when they walked up the stairs, seemingly all set, even if they did really look like this trip hadn't come a moment too soon.

"Ready?" the girl asked. All she got was affirmative huffs and grunts. Even Sam was eyeing her a bit unsurely now, probably Dean had filled him in on the plan. "Alright, get in the back, there won't be any legroom in the front."

Dean practically paled at this revelation. _Right._ Stephanie was much shorter than the two of them. Of course she would have to pull the bench closer to the pedals and steering wheel. He wanted to at least supervise her first attempt at Baby, but oh well, he would just have to deal.

They all got in, Steph throwing her bag on the shotgun seat, adjusting everything quickly and proficiently. When in college she used to share a car with her dorm mates. When she managed to start the car and move forward without stalling the engine she could practically hear Dean's somewhat relieved sigh. That made her giggle. And with that they were off.


	14. Chapter 14

The Impala was a joy to drive. She purred under Steph's feet, responding to her every move. Felt a bit like a boat after a small car like her VW, especially with the rear-wheel drive, but that wasn't going to daunt Steph. After getting her safely out of the garage and the first few miles flew past them without incident or uncertainty on Steph's part, Dean relaxed somewhat on the back seat, the likelihood for a scratch free outing really looking up in his opinion. His only concern was that Steph was _maybe_ abiding by the traffic regulations a bit too strictly and thus they were taking too long getting there.

"So who are we pretending to be today? Or are we using our real names for once?" the girl asked when she heard a bit of a respite between all the sniffling and coughing going on back there, glancing into the rearview to make eye contact with the boys.

"Meet the Evans family," Dean smirked, pulling out fake driver's licenses from his coat pocket, handing Steph's to her.

"Oh, I like that," she said gleefully as she took a quick glance at the name before pocketing it. "Lots of pop culture references. Harry Potter and Soul Eater characters, or Captain America even, you know the actor playing…"

"AC/DC. It's AC/DC, dammit," he deadpanned, getting the inspiration from former band members. Never in a million years would he have thought that Steph would put an entirely different, geeky spin on it. Though he should have anticipated it.

Sam snickered beside him, earning himself a lackluster punch in the shoulder from his brother. Teasing Dean with a partner in crime was way too much fun. Though the sneeze that followed definitely wasn't. Instant karma.

" _HUH'ghrshshoum-uh…"_ they still hurt like nobody's business. Sam fumbled for his last tissue in his coat pockets, dabbing his raw nose gingerly.

"Yeah, that too," Steph waved Dean off dismissively with a laugh. "So who am I? Little sister?"

"Actually wife and sister-in-law…" the older Winchester revealed almost shyly. That might have been a foregone conclusion, now that he thought about it, especially since he came up with the cover story and aliases way before he even knew of his feelings for Steph. It just seemed convenient. Especially at places like the doctor's. Although the sister cover could have served the "next of kin" purpose just the same… Yeah, that might have been solely his subconscious talking with that one. "If you don't mind that is."

"No, it's cool," she nonchalantly remarked, but internally her mind was spinning a hundred mile an hour. _Holy shit, that was unexpected._ Even if only pretend… Dean didn't seem like the person to get tied down. Or would want to for that matter. Yet _he_ came up with it… all on his own. What exactly did that mean regarding the nature of their relationship?

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, only punctuated by the occasional sneezing from the back. Steph could tell exactly who the culprit was each time, the sounds they made were so distinguishable, even though both could be quite forceful – and manly if you asked her. Sam's were almost always very sudden, with a sharp, loud inhale, rolling off with a sort of throaty "r" sound, ending with him trying to soften, almost swallow the end then just having to let the air out anyway, resembling somewhat of a moan. Dean on the other hand tended to silently – or sometimes not so silently – build up for longer, his expression forewarning those in the vicinity that the sneeze was coming, the ending being more forceful with its wet "ksh" sound, just letting it out. At least when he wasn't stifling, which fortunately on Steph's insistence he wasn't doing too often.

No one was particularly in the mood for music, the boys too headachy and miserable. Steph was deep in thought, only realizing that she hadn't looked up the address of where they were going on Google when they were already at the town limits. She fished her phone out with one hand from her bag, awkwardly leaning to the side and making sure to keep Baby steady.

"Hey! Eyes on the road, missy!" Dean snapped at her when he realized what she was doing as she tried to bring up the app on the device, suddenly envisioning all kinds of catastrophes happening to them, even though Steph hasn't even swerved an inch from the center of the lane during this whole time. She was a pretty good driver actually.

"You check the address then, hubby of mine," she chuckled as she handed it over her right shoulder, enjoying the stunned expression on his face at the endearment maybe just a tad too much in the rearview.

"Gimme that!" he grumbled, snatching the phone to input the search, then speaking up again in a few seconds. "Go left at the next light."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Steph gave him a mock salute, earning herself an eye roll, which promptly made Dean groan in discomfort, because it aggravated his headache. Her amusement instantly turned into concern. "We are almost there, don't worry."

* * *

The parking spaces right in front of the clinic were all full much to their dismay, so they had to park about a block down the street, which normally wouldn't have been a problem, but the boys weren't the steadiest on their feet at the moment. Their sense of pride would never let them complain though. Steph eased the Impala into the space on her first try, without any corrections needed, which seriously impressed Dean, although he was getting the feeling she must have driven a muscle car before in the past. You just can't be that good on your very first.

They somehow clambered out of the car, all shivery when the morning air hit them, then flanked Steph from both sides as they walked down the street at a moderate pace to the urgent care, where – immediately after stepping in through the two sets of glass sliding doors – the reason behind the lack of parking became pretty evident. The waiting room was packed… _great_. They were going to be there for hours.

Dean made a face of mild disgust at the prospect as he eyed all the sick people around them. For being a hunter his slight germaphobia was diverting to watch. It wasn't debilitating in any sense of the word, he just sucked it up most of the time, but one would think that given the nasties that he came into contact with on a daily basis his threshold would be fairly high, but no… snotty, sneezy, coughing strangers got him every time. Even if logically speaking right now he was probably one of the sickest people in there. On the other hand he had never shown _any_ kind of discomfort when he dealt with his brother or his lovely fellow legacy if they were the ones sick. Family was a different matter.

Steph sent the two Winchesters off vehemently to go sit down before they keeled over, while she went up to the front desk to get them signed in and obtain those pesky patient health questionnaires to fill out.

"Name? Nature of the problem?" the nurse asked in a mildly bored tone that almost had Steph raising her eyebrows. No "hi", "good morning" or anything? Why work in healthcare if you can't muster the minimal courtesy and compassion towards the people who come through the doors?

"Dean Evans and Samuel Evans, the flu for both," she said pleasantly anyway, sort of proud of herself for not messing up the names as she handed over the IDs so the woman could pencil them in.

 _Dolores_ , according to her name tag – oh the irony and how befitting – glanced up with a look that told everything about her opinion on grown men needing an escort to the doctor's, having their women wait on their hands and feet while they wrestled the "man flu", which she probably thought was just a bad head cold. Steph seriously wanted to slap the plump woman. She never understood why this gender stereotype came to be in the first place and quite honestly took offence in it. Not to mention that she was a 100% sure that Sam and Dean were not playing up their symptoms. They would literally be the last people on Earth to admit to feeling unwell when sick, much less succumb to it. Who did this lady think she was, judging them without knowing the actual circumstances?

"Fill these out," the woman handed her two clipboards with the forms and a pen, disinterested efficiency in her movements.

"Thank you," Steph told her with enthusiasm and a big smile on her face just to spite her, before twirling around to find her boys, both sitting in one of the many rather uncomfortable plastic chairs along the walls, their coats in their laps but all other layers of clothing still on, saving her a seat.

" _HAE'grchshshsh-uh…"_ Sam sneezed loudly into his palms right the second she got there and she could see the balding man sitting on his left scoot a little bit over towards the other edge his seat, trying to get as far as possible from him with the limited options that he had.

"Bless you," the purple haired girl chirped, handing him a tissue pack from her bag, and plopping down between the two Winchesters as Sam blew his nose – without much success – earning herself a wide-eyed expression from the earlier guy, probably in awe of her courage or questioning her sanity for willingly exposing herself to their germs.

Dean was sitting there on Steph's right, slumped in the chair, arms crossed, eyes closed, and a hard expression on his face, probably trying to block everything out.

"Hey, doing okay there, Dean?" Steph asked softly, rubbing his upper arm affectionately. He merely grunted in response that could just as well have been a yes or a no, then started coughing into his fist. _He really needs to lay off the throaty sounds if he wants to avoid these fits._ She gave him a water bottle, which he took gratefully, taking a sip greedily to appease his throat. _Careful planning and preparedness, my friends_ , she mentally patted herself on the back.

The questionnaires though… it's one thing to fill out a form like this with your real information, however personal and embarrassing it might be, so that the doctor could threat you correctly, but filling it out with false information in a way that still didn't hinder the main purpose – getting the right care – was a challenge. Or more like a nightmare without proper medical knowledge.

Drug sensitivities and addictions? _Mhm,_ Sam _, do you think demon blood constitutes as such?_ Steph shook her head amusedly and just crossed that section out. Lung problems? _Well, there was the time he was coughing up blood due to the Trials…_ Have you had recent surgery? _Do stitches done at home count?_ Broken bones… _right… too many to list._ She sighed heavily.

Sam glanced at her with raised brows, silently inquiring what the matter was, but she was too focused on the piece of paper in front of her to notice, which incidentally also clued him in as to the source of her distress.

"Gimmbe," he mumbled congestedly, reaching for his form to continue to fill out. Sam was always so nice and considerate, no matter how crappy he felt. Steph's heart warmed, and leaned into his shoulder just a tiny bit to show her appreciation.

She gave the clipboard to him without a word, along with the pen and wondered if she had another one in her purse so she could continue with Dean's simultaneously. And there was! Women's bags… a land of eternal wonder.

Wrestling through the same sections was easy enough, most points she already decided on leaving out applied to Dean too. But… history of heart problems? Anger management issues? _Nah_ , leave them empty. And then she got to the questions relating to his sex life. She leaned in towards Dean's ear, touching him lightly on the arm so he wouldn't get startled.

"So, how often do you have sex, dear husband? With women, men or both? Any STIs I should know about?" Steph whispered with a chuckle, unable to keep her amusement to herself, especially with all the homoerotic subtext of the Supernatural books running through her mind. And of course there were his numerous conquests among the ladies…

Dean on the other hand was very unamused by this, and his stoic glare said as much as he slowly turned his head to look at her. Yeah, that intimidation technique had never worked on Steph. She just turned back to the form with a shrug, finishing it off with a shake of her head, but she resisted the urge to make the information more interesting than it was.

Just as she was taking the clipboard from Sam and getting up to bring both back to the front desk, someone walked up to her, at first only the approaching feet in her peripheral vision catching her attention, then came the words obviously directed at her.

"Well, if it isn't the crazy chick!"

She recognized the jesting voice instantly. It was the guy from the store yesterday. _Ugh._ Of course. He was in the cold/flu isle too, why else would he have been there if he wasn't sick. She hated small towns. Only one clinic. Making her run into people she absolutely did not want to run into. Steph wanted to just ignore him, hoping that Sam and Dean wouldn't make anything of the encounter, but he just had to continue. "Taking your equally psycho brothers to the doctor's? That so _sweet_ …" he drawled mockingly, looking at the slumped forms on either side of her with disdain, not realizing the grave mistake he had just made by poking the sleeping bears that were the Winchesters. For his defense, in their current position they really did seem harmless.

"Look just…" Steph started, trying to say something to make him get lost when Sam and Dean stood up, sheer willpower temporarily overcoming all their symptoms, suddenly looking very imposing and menacing as they towered over the guy, who couldn't have been taller than 5'10.

"Husband actually, and that's my brother," Dean uttered in a leveled tone that felt even more threatening than if he had been shouting, despite the hoarseness in his voice. Steph could see the black haired dude gulp, probably just barely avoiding to shit his pants as his gaze quickly jumped between the two brothers. Dean, especially under the influence of the Mark, was one scary fella. Ominous you could say. And it seemed Sam wasn't all that far behind on the intimidation scale either when it came to defending Steph, the additional 3 inches and hard set expression definitely doing the trick at catching up to Dean in this regard despite his naturally puppy dog looks. "Do we have a problem?"

"Guys!" Steph sprung up, placing a calming hand on both their chests to diffuse the situation, turning her head to the guy with the most diplomatic tone she could muster. "Just leave us alone, please."

And miraculously he did, probably sensing that this was the only way he had a smidge of hope at getting out of this scot-free. The girl let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

"Stop making a scene already!" she forcefully whispered to the boys who still hadn't sat back down, noticing the wary looks flicking to them from the neighboring seats. At least the fact that they were provoked was evident as well. Thank God they never really came into town and were using fake names, because she could already imagine the rumor mill starting.

Reluctantly they did return to their temporary plastic "bullpens", though the tension still hasn't left their shoulders as they watched the man go to front desk then sit down in the farthest corner away from them as possible.

"Was he…?" Dean began to ask under his breath, his voice breaking.

"Yes, the flirty guy from the store," Steph confirmed quickly in equally hushed tones.

"Well… he isn't flirting anymore, that's for sure," her fake husband remarked, finding great joy in that fact before he started coughing again.

"Yeah, you scared him off alright, big guy, now try and quit talking. It's making my throat hurt to just watch," she rolled her eyes, handing him the water again, before quickly going and dropping off the forms.

Sam was still casting suspicious glances over to the other side of the room when she got back, but kept quiet otherwise.

* * *

About an hour and a half later their names were called, Sam going in first. He insisted that Steph didn't leave Dean alone and went in by himself, maybe a tiny bit worried still that Dean would jump the offending guy if given the chance.

Steph was seriously doubting that. Now that the adrenalin has long worn off he looked and sounded considerably worse, leaning his head heavily on her shoulder as much as the armrests allowed. _Poor guy_ , she thought, trying to give him loads of comfort without going overly PDA, resting her hand on either his thigh or cheek, occasionally running her fingers through his hair.

" _eh… ehhksheewww_ …" Dean muffled a sneeze into a tissue tiredly, the contraction in his chest muscles triggering another cough, desperately wishing this outing to be just over already, when Sam finally came out about fifteen minutes later. There were multiple doctors so the line moved faster than that overall, but both boys going in to see the same doctor made more sense, so it wasn't a surprise that the nurse scheduled them in like that.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Steph asked the younger Winchester as he approached.

"Ndah, I'mb okay," he said with a small smile. "Go ond ind."

At the same time Dean looked up from her shoulder hopefully, giving her hand a small pleading squeeze. Alright, going in with him she was.

"Behave," she gave a last warning to Sam, knowing that he knew what she was talking about.

"Yes, mba'amb," Sam gazed up sheepishly as he was taking his seat. He was acting a little off, but Steph couldn't really pinpoint the reason behind it.

Stephanie stood a bit stiffly from having sat in one place for so long, refraining from helping Dean up, no matter how much she wanted to, then just simply took his hand and walked with him towards the exam room, looking every bit the married couple they were pretending to be.

The walls in there were just as clinical, white and grey as in the waiting room, with white counters and cabinets along the left side wall and an exam table in the middle that Dean promptly eased himself down on, while Steph just came and stood beside him as a comforting presence, her hand in his.

The doctor, _a woman_ , much to Steph's initial dismay, came in from the adjacent room, probably her office, but to her surprise Dean didn't start flirting with her at all. No cheeky smirks, lingering glances, no nothing. _Huh._ Too sick to be hitting on girls? Though that couldn't be right, he was perfectly capable of being affectionate with her despite feeling like shit.

"Dean Evans, right?" the lady asked in a kind yet professional tone that Steph very much appreciated. Nothing like the front desk nurse at all.

"Uh-um," Dean nodded, avoiding to speak as much as he could.

"And you must be the bossy sister-in-law, Stephanie, then," Dr. Turner, according to her name tag, commented, again with no malice in her voice, just maybe a bit of amusement.

"Steph is fine," she corrected with a laugh. What the hell had Sam and she been talking about in here? And the miniscule fondness in her tone… Sam's insistence that Steph came in made a bit more sense now. He didn't want Dean hitting on the good doc… maybe because Sam was secretly smitten with her? That kind of explained her absolute lack of fangirly response to Dean's looks too. Dr. Turner preferred the tall, moppy haired kind of men it seemed. Of course, this all just could be in her head, Steph realized, but still, this little fantasy amused her very much, despite the very tiny twinge of jealousy and protectiveness she felt. Dean seemed totally oblivious to all of this, though his lack of attention could be forgiven in the current situation. "Don't listen to a word Sam says, if I hadn't practically forced the both of them to get into the car to come, they would have been happy to unnecessarily suffer for two weeks."

Dean cast her an annoyed look, but didn't bother to comment. He knew it was true. Well, not the happy part, but the general idea.

"Oh, I'm not judging, it was the right call. Your brother-in-law has a nasty sinus infection. He said you suspected as much, so good catch. Sam authorized me to disclose any information with you regarding his current condition and care. Also said to just give you his prescriptions too, since you would be handling their care and medication anyway. The dosing information is on there, but we can discuss it if you need, once we are done with Dean too, okay?" the female doctor explained as she handed the pieces of paper over, again with such warmth and compassion that Steph rarely saw in this profession anymore and wondered how dear ol' Dolores was tolerated here. Or maybe Dr. Turner was the outlier after all. Then the question arose how she was putting up with all the sour faces.

"Thanks," the girl said, taking a quick glance at them. Antibiotics, prescription antipyretics, and something she didn't recognize, maybe something antiviral. At least Sam was thorough too. She was worried he wouldn't be able to tell everything that went on yesterday because he had been too out of it, like the fact that Tylenol didn't work at all and Advil only moderately.

"So Dean, I'm seeing here that you are feeling similarly under the weather, could you tell me a bit more about your symptoms?" Dr. Turner asked, setting the clipboard with his information down on the counter.

"Fever and coughing mostly," he rasped, then incidentally sneezed with a harsh _heh'gKSHSHshsh_ into the crook of his arm, which subsequently led to coughing, giving away the severity of said cough.

"And throat pain, nasal irritation too apparently," she observed the way he winced a bit. "Okay. Feeling lethargic at all? Like having no energy to do anything?" she inquired further, not letting the situation be brushed off by Dean. Steph was starting to be in awe of her. No wonder Sam took a liking to her, and surely her willowy frame, long, curly dark brown hair tied in a bun and brown eyes helped too.

"Yeah… uhm, yes," he admitted, pausing to clear his throat.

"When did this start?" the doctor asked.

"It hit me yesterday morning I guess, but I was sort of feeling off already the day before," Dean revealed, inconspicuously taking a guilty glance over to Steph, anticipating her reaction to those news.

So he went out on a hunt with the knowledge that he was getting sick. _UGH!_ Steph sometimes could strangle him. And now this made her wonder about Sam too. They had been fussing over her that whole day, not once mentioning that they were feeling unwell. See? So much for the damned man flu theory. And then she remembered the morning of her training session. Sam had slept in. He never sleeps in, even when they get back late from a hunt. That should have been her first clue that something was up. Which also meant it probably wasn't her who gave them this wretched virus. On some level that was a relief. On another damn you guys for being so reckless!

"Alright, let me just take a quick look at your throat first," Dr. Turner put on some rubber gloves and a face mask, checking his lymph nodes first, then asking him to open his mouth wide, pressing his tongue down with a wooden spatula. "We can take a swab sample and do a rapid test if you like, but with this off-season flu epidemic going on, it's pretty much a given that's our primary culprit."

"No, that's fine," Dean declined once he was released.

"Any pressure in your sinuses?" she asked.

"Not really," Dean replied truthfully, not reacting at all when she put some pressure on his forehead with her thumb.

"Lung pain? Trouble breathing?" the doctor continued.

"Some, not too bad," he said.

"I see. Let's listen to those lungs then. Take your upper clothing off down to the T-shirt, okay?" she instructed.

Dean reluctantly complied – especially not wanting to let Steph's hand go – although his lower most layer was a Henley not a T-shirt, because he wanted to keep the Mark hidden, shivering hard as the cool air hit his fevered skin through the thin material.

"Feeling cold?" Dr. Turner looked concerned, since the heating was always a little higher in the exam rooms for exactly this reason, making sure that patients wouldn't be chilled when they had to take their clothes off, and Dean even had long sleeves on.

"Yeah," he nodded, practically willing himself to feel warmer, even clutching the sides of the exam table to stop the shuddering, but it wasn't helping.

"What was your last temp?" the woman asked as she took her notes of her previous examinations down.

"It was 103.5 last night," Steph replied this time, knowing that Dean had no idea. "The Advil helped some, and he didn't feel _that_ warm during the night and this morning, but we left as soon as I woke him, so I don't have a more recent number. He wasn't doing so well in the waiting room though."

"No problem, we can check it now," she said without a hitch, going to one of the drawers, getting an ear thermometer, putting a hygiene cap on it, and coming back to take Dean's temperature, which only took a couple of seconds. "103.7, okay, that's definitely not ideal."

Yeah, that was the understatement of the year. The doctor then proceeded to listen to his lungs with her stethoscope, pulling his shirt up just enough to press the cold metal to his skin at the right places, front first, then the back, asking him to take deep breaths to hear the extent of the crackling in his lungs. They had to pause several times because of the ensuing coughing fits.

"Well, Dean, you are the proud owner of a case of bronchitis, on top of probably the same viral infection your brother has too. Thankfully it hasn't developed into pneumonia yet, and hopefully with antibiotics and antiviral medication, plenty of rest and fluids it won't either, but you need to take it easy for at least the next week, but preferably until all your symptoms are gone. I'm also prescribing you the same antipyretics as for your brother, and a heavy duty cough syrup that should help clear all that gunk out," Dr. Turner announced finally, returning to her notes on the patient form, but catching the displeased expression on his face. "I advise you to take this seriously, and listen to your wife. I saw the look on her face when she heard you were already starting to feel sick on Saturday, so I'm guessing you were doing something strenuous that you really shouldn't have if feeling unwell. Don't make her worry more than necessary," she finished her rant as she filled out the four prescriptions, handing them to Steph.

"Thanks," the girl said again, a small smile on her face.

"If you get any worse, experience shortness of breath while in a resting state, lung pain gets worse, the fever won't go down with those medications either, for example or have any other concerns, severe side effects to the medications, you should either come back or go straight to the hospital. The only reason I'm not sending you right this second is because you have someone to take care of you at home," the doctor instructed sharply.

"I'll make sure he goes," Steph confirmed, feeling Dean's unimpressed stare for being handled like a child aimed at the back of her head.

"Any questions about the dosing? Are you feeling sick or unwell at all by the way? This does seem like a pretty virulent strain," Dr. Turner inquired, which again just showed how thorough she was.

"Uhm, I was sick last week, but I recovered just fine already," Steph admitted, managing to not lie but also conveniently leave out the part that it had been as recent as this Friday-Saturday, not earlier in the week, and getting over it actually meant being healed by an Angel of the Lord. Oh, what a mess they would be in now if Cas hadn't come when he had, with all three of them this sick. Though the fact that he still hasn't gotten back to her about Sam and Dean was irking as well as worrying her a bit. Was he in trouble and unable to call, or just didn't have the heart to say no, or was too far away, so just ignored her instead? "The instructions seem clear enough, but if anything comes up I'll just call the clinic during business hours."

"Alright, that's a bit of a relief I guess, but you should still observe good hygiene practices, wash your hands regularly, try to avoid touching your face, because you could still be susceptible to their secondary infections. Get well soon then, and I hope I won't have to see you again," Dr. Turner dismissed them warmly. Steph was pretty sure Sam had different hopes, just maybe under more pleasant circumstances. That included their hunting lifestyle. He wouldn't make a move when there was absolutely no way in hell it would work out.


	15. Chapter 15

After they came out of the exam room Stephanie went and got their paperwork plus took care of the nitty gritty details regarding the financials of this visit, since they had no insurance, meanwhile Dean was sent off to keep his brother company until she finished, with which he happily complied.

Overall the bill wasn't that bad, in her opinion, just a couple hundred dollars, and was worth every cent if it got the boys better as an end result. Of course they would still need to fill the prescriptions which would in total cost around another hundred. Steph really didn't mind how much it was, but she was definitely not telling Dean. He would just try and find a sneaky way to reimburse her. Which honestly still wasn't out of the question, knowing him.

By the time she got back to the waiting room creepy guy was gone. Whether in one of the exam rooms or left entirely she did not know or care, she was just glad that was a potential confrontation she could skip, for the sake of the boys' health. Oh, they could handle themselves and win, no doubt, but the inevitable crash after getting so worked up she wouldn't be looking forward to.

A wicked grin grew on her lips as her eyes landed on Sam. She had to get to the bottom of whatever vibes she was getting regarding the pretty little doc lady, and if her suspicions were true there was teasing to be had. Honestly it was unfair that he rarely got on the receiving end of it from her. Getting Dean to join in on the fun would be awesome too, he complained about Sam and Steph ganging up on him all the time, so he could have this opportunity for a little payback. But all this would have to wait until they were feeling at least marginally better.

"Hey handsomes, ready to skip this joint?" Steph walked up to the Winchesters who were in different states of hunched over, barely keeping it together, and probably the only thing on their minds was getting horizontal, and not for the fun kind of activities.

"God, yes," Dean groaned, promptly standing up, getting a head rush, and only Steph's steadying hands firmly on his elbow saving him from face-planting. Sam tried to be more careful as he clambered up but still got dizzy, catching himself on the wall behind the seats before Steph could offer a hand. They were such a mess, really. Steph just wanted to coddle them until they were back to their former selves. She made sure they got their coats on then ushered them towards the exit.

"Come on guys, one quick stop to the pharmacy and we can be on our way," she encouraged them as the sliding doors opened, thinking that first an ATM might be more prudent because she was truly out of cash now and even though she could probably use her card at the drug store, it never hurt to have some on her for later.

Steph also remembered that she wasn't really able to stock up their groceries yesterday, but she wasn't going to put the boys through that right now. They needed a bed and warm, fuzzy blankets like two hours ago.

 _"_ _HUH'grtchshshsh-uh…"_ Sam sneezed harshly into one of his many tissues the second they got outside and the cooler breeze of air hit his face. He was a bit sweaty, his long hair sticking to his forehead in places as if he was too hot, but by the time they got to the car he was shivering again.

"Did the doc take your temperature?" the girl asked worriedly as the boys got into the back form either side, following Sam and leaning in to brush his hair out of his face and quickly assess his fever. He was definitely too warm.

"Yeah, uhmb, it was 103.1," he said curtly, averting his gaze, and again Steph was getting the feeling that he was hiding or embarrassed about something, and it surely wasn't his fever. That was pretty evident, no point in being self-conscious about it, especially after the last few days.

She let it go for now, just nodding in acknowledgement before closing his door, and hastily climbed into the front so that they wouldn't have to sit in the draught for too long. Dean was behind shotgun this time, already kind of dozing against the coolness of the back window.

She started the car and got back on the road without Dean even noticing it, thanking everything holy that she didn't repeat the supermarket parking lot incident of almost ramming into oncoming traffic. The pharmacy was just five blocks away and she parked on the other side of the street, happy to find that there was an ATM right there in front of her. Two birds with one stone.

"I'm just gonna be a few minutes, okay?" Steph announced, turning to the back. Dean was still out as a light, no reaction whatsoever.

"Do you have your gund?" Sam leaned forward to her and asked seriously, though the severity of his tone was a bit dampened by the fact his voice was so thick with congestion that you could barely make out some of his consonants. Would go great on a comedy sketch though.

"Yeah, right here," she inconspicuously took her Colt M1911A1 – similar to Dean's just newer and it didn't have a custom handle – out of her satchel to prove it. The last visit into town was scary as fuck. She wasn't taking any chances.

"Whad kidd of bullets do you have?" he inquired further, his brows furrowing in a way that made Steph just want to touch that spot on his forehead to soothe it away, but she guessed that would just make it worse with his sinus infection and all.

"Demon trap, I think, but I have a mag of silver and witch killing ones in here too," she released the magazine to make sure, completely missing Sam's astonished face, then popped it back in with one switch, practiced motion. Yeah, lady purses were a land of eternal wonder. You never know what's hiding in there. She just wished it was a tad bigger so she could fit a saw-off with salt rounds in it too. Statistically speaking demons and ghosts were the most likely thing she would ever run into by chance and she was mostly unprotected against those with this set up. It was really bugging her. But she had some special anti-demon handcuffs to make up for that somewhat.

"Uhmb, dat soundds… prepared," Sam remarked diplomatically, and he was quite frankly proud and impressed, but also a bit sad that the constant paranoia of the hunter's life had rubbed off on her so much. He of course saw the little chink on that armor too, also sensing her anxiety so came up with a solution. "Take dis too, okay?"

Sam took the demon killing knife from his coat pocket, flipping it in his palm, then handing it to her hilt first.

"Are you sure?" Steph asked, her eyes wide as she gingerly took it, and ran her fingers over the broad of the blade. That was a pretty special item, kind of irreplaceable. She didn't even want to think about what would happen if she lost it. Though she supposed angel blades were a substitute but still. Those didn't grow on trees either.

"Ye _ah– hah… HEA'KRSHOUMB…_ ow," Sam let out an earsplitting sneeze, the momentum of which caused him to hit his head on the back of the front seat as he tried to duck to avoid sneezing on Stephanie.

"What the…" Dean jumped from the noise, suddenly wide awake.

"Bless you…" she said unsurely at the same time, looking at Sam with concern when he didn't instantly reemerge, before her eyes flickered to Dean's startled face, just in time to see it contort as he, you guessed it right, started coughing his lungs up from the sudden inhale. "Okay, sit tight, I'll be back soon, then I'm getting you guys home and drowning you in meds, alright?"

She didn't wait for a reply, deciding to just get on with business already was the best course of action. She just leaped out of the car after tossing the blade into her bag, and rushed over to the ATM to get some money, then was practically running to the other side of the street to the pharmacy. Yes, she was in a big fucking hurry.

Fortunately only two people were in front of her in the line. On the downside, a few seconds later the door chimed again, and from the corner of her eye as she was looking at one of the displays along the side wall she noticed it was creeper dude. _Fucking annoying small towns…_ Steph almost walked out right then and there, but the next drug store was too far by foot and she didn't want to go back to the Impala and drive there, just to have the boys wait again. So she stayed as quiet and inconspicuous as she could with her back to him, hoping he wouldn't recognize her. Yeah, not so easy to do with purple hair and a bright teal hoodie on, kind of distinguishable.

If he did know it was her, he didn't say anything, and for some reason that was just making Steph even more uncomfortable. She had a very bad feeling, which only intensified when the two people in front of her finished, and no one else had entered the pharmacy in the meanwhile. She would be left all alone with the guy once she gave the prescriptions to the pharmacist and he went to the back to fill them.

Just as the man's back disappeared behind the door leading to the inner store space, she turned around on instinct, catching the moment when her stalker's eyes flickered back from all black to their normal brown – she now noticed – color. _Motherfucker! I knew it!_

"Well, I guess the secret is out, darling," he chuckled making a grab for her neck but she quickly ducked and avoided it, only to be kneed hard in her chest, winding her as she flew back against one of the glass displays from the force. One or more of her ribs might have actually cracked.

Steph crumpled forward onto the floor, trying to catch her breath, covered in tiny cuts all over her exposed skin from the shattered glass.

"I knew something was special about you, when I sensed the anti-possession tattoo, that you must be a hunter," the demon came to crouch down beside her, mocking her with every word. "Imagine my surprise when I saw you with the Winchesters."

Steph cursed to herself that she had parked on the other side of the road, since sitting naturally in the car, both Sam and Dean were facing away from the pharmacy. They probably had no idea this fucktard had followed her in, unless they were constantly turning back to watch the entrance, which she was sure they weren't doing, they were just too tuckered out to be on constant high alert when they weren't expecting anything to happen. Though even if they knew what were they going to do? They didn't know he was a demon and had no means to fight him off anyway. She had the knife.

Unfortunately the pharmacist had to choose right that moment to come out to check what the ruckus was about, his neck instantly getting snapped with a small flicker of the demon's wrist. That gave Steph another piece of the puzzle. Whoever this guy was, he was at least a mid-level demon.

"Now where were we? Oh, right. Crowley will be pleased to know the Winchesters have a new little pet. Imagine his gratitude when I actually deliver her as a fine gift," he gloated. Mid-level and fallen out of grace, so to speak, at the "court". Interesting.

Demons and all their exasperating need for dramatic exposition. That gave Steph enough time though to reach into her bag that was under her stomach, her hands first touching her gun. She could work with that. With nimble fingers she pulled it out, aiming for the demon's shoulder as she rolled over to get a better angle and firing before he could even blink.

"Ha, do you think bullets will work on me? You are stupider than I thought, even for a hunter," the demon jested, unfazed, not yet realizing that he had been trapped.

"You sure about that?" Steph smirked, her left already fumbling around her satchel to find either the knife or the handcuffs, since she was only buying herself time with her earlier move.

It took the demon a second to realize he was unable to vacate the meat suit, which was enough for Steph's hand to get what she needed from her bag, spring to her feet after rolling back and ram into the guy at full force, cuffing one hand, her action obscured by her guttural yell. She pushed him all the way against the other wall where a heating pipe ran, hooking the handcuffs around it and snapping it onto his other wrist while he was still too distracted by surprise.

"You bitch!" the demon sneered as he realized what had happened, pulling hard against the restrains, the metal cutting deep into the vessel's flesh.

Steph wondered if he could be saved, the meat suit that is, as she took a step back from him, trying to catch her breath. The wound from the bullet was far from lethal. Question was, just how long had he been possessed, and how hard the demon had been riding him. Probably wouldn't be worth the risk though. If she exorcised the demon, it could just go and report everything about this whole encounter to Crowley. Then all of Dean's efforts of keeping her hidden from the King of Hell would go to waste.

She sighed in contemplation, wincing around her hurting ribs, when Sam and Dean burst in, taking in the destruction in the shop.

"We heard a gunshot. Steph, are you alright?" Dean came up to her hastily, all wheezy as if he had sprinted a whole marathon. They had probably sprung out of the car and ran right over the second they heard the unmistakable sound. Which also meant others heard too probably and soon the cops would show up if anyone called 911.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she tried to wave him off, the movement causing her pain as the muscles pulled against her ribs. Man, she hadn't felt any of that a second ago when the adrenalin had been pushing her forward. "Flirty douchebag here on the other hand is a demon."

"WHAT?" Sam and Dean yelled in shocked unison, though Sam seemed a little less surprised than Dean, angry glares landing on the guy, Dean breaking away to cough a second later.

"Here," Steph got the demon killing knife out and handed it back to Sam. "Do what you want with him."

She then walked over to the counter, lifted the little divider at the left end that employee's used to get behind the counter from the customer side and crouched down gingerly – trying to not hiss in pain – by the pharmacist, checking for a pulse, just in case, but no, he was thoroughly dead. _Dammit._

Without looking back or paying attention to what the boys were doing, Steph walked inside the inner room of the store, door flinging behind her, finding no one else back there, just their prescriptions filled and ready on the table, all six orange plastic tubes plus a dark brown glass bottle containing what most likely was cough syrup. _Why couldn't he just stay in here?_ She stuffed them all into her bag and came back out, throwing a hundred dollar bill on the counter as payment by the cash register, only to notice Dean's super pissed form plowing punch after punch into the demon.

"Dean!" she yelled, not getting any kind of reaction from him. "DEAN! Stop it!"

When she said "do what you want with him" she meant killing the demon, or exorcizing him, or something, not mindlessly beating the crap out of him, which was only uselessly wasting Dean's energy when it should be saved for getting through this monster of a flu. Sam just stood there, not moving a finger, either unable or unwilling to impede him.

Steph threw Sam a dirty glance as she rounded the counter quickly, running up to Dean, and catching his elbow, almost getting yanked forward with his momentum as he threw another punch before he pulled back. He spun around to see who the hell dared to interfere with his revenge, and there was a fraction of a second where she thought he was going to hit her, unable to recognize her, or just plainly seeing red and working out the urge on the first thing his eyes landed on. Then finally the hard mask of the single minded killing machine the Mark usually turned Dean into fell away, and he enveloped her in a bone crushing hug of relief. As the side of his face touched hers, she noticed he was burning so hot she honestly didn't know how he wasn't hallucinating from the fever. It had to be at least a 104.

"Ow, ow, ow," Steph yelped as her ribs protested, her whole body going rigid, trying to minimize the damage and the sensation.

"Shit, are you hurt?" Dean released her immediately, his slightly unfocused eyes roaming over her to see if she was bleeding.

"Just some bruised ribs," she said, hugging her side to recover from his onslaught. The guilt could already be seen settling in his eyes, however hard she hoped he didn't go there.

"Lemme see," he said sternly.

"It can wait until we get home," Steph insisted, wishing the attention to be taken off of her. All things considered they were in still rougher shape than her.

"No, it can't. They could be broken," Dean demanded, even though he was swaying slightly on his feet.

"We don't have time for this, the cops could be here any second, and we need to see if there is a security camera first, then get out of dodge," the girl urged, her eyes pleadingly gliding over to Sam. They had no way of explaining any of this, even if they whipped out fake badges which she wasn't even sure they had on them.

" _Huh'rshshsh-um…_ I'll handdle the cambera, Deand you go get the car aroundd to the back so we cand leave widdout gettigg seend," Sam interjected helpfully, though honestly Steph wasn't sure Dean handling Baby in his current condition was a good idea.

"What do we do about him?" her eyes flickered back to the now unconscious demon, still chained to that damned heating pipe.

"I think the honor is yours," Dean rasped simply as Sam stepped forward, handing her the demon killing knife again. She had subdued him all by herself, she should get to finished it off.

Her first kill, huh. Not how she imagined it, that's for sure. She didn't hesitate though, the blade sliding right into the demon's heart, electric flashes coursing through him as the knife worked its magic, permanently ending the evil that lurked inside the meat suit.


	16. Chapter 16

The whole thing was rather anticlimactic as the boys stood there silently and watched her do the deed. Steph pulled the knife back out, wiping the blade on a bandana, just as Sam strutted to the back to find out where the recordings of the security camera were stored, while Dean left through the front to collect the car. All very businesslike. She wondered if all hunts were like this. No added fanfare and such.

Steph removed the cuffs from the poor bloke who had absolutely nothing to do with this whole thing – just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, getting possessed by a demon – and he slumped further down onto the floor lifelessly. The whole flirting thing was probably just the demon too, trying to gauge what she was made of.

She hid the etched restraints along with the knife in her bag, collecting her gun too from the floor where she had dropped it. There was nothing she could do about the tiny smears of her blood though, scattered among the glass shards. Her DNA would go on permanent record in association with a crime scene. _Fucking demons, ruining lives in too many ways to count._

After she deemed there wasn't anything else she could do to cover their tracks, she joined Sam, who was quickly typing on a keyboard, erasing all digital evidence that they had ever been there. Or at least trying to, he kept squinting at the monitor, pinching the bridge of his nose and massaging his temples as if fighting off a very bad headache, seemingly unable to concentrate.

"Maybe just taking the drive would be easier," the girl suggested, seeing his distress, putting a soothing hand at the back of his neck. He was burning up. It was evident that he wasn't at the top of his game, though she didn't blame him for it.

He nodded slightly, proceeding to just physically remove everything, along with the back-up drives too.

The two of them hurried out the back door, where Dean was already waiting in the Impala. Currently busy sneezing his head off over the steering wheel, spraying everywhere despite his attempts to cover. Just yummy.

" _hksh… hi'shew… h'tchsh… heh'ksh… heh… eh… HEH'SHSHOO…_ ugh _,"_ he practically groaned in pain before he starting coughing harshly. By the time he was done he was so dizzy that he couldn't even muster the energy to move to the back seat where Sam had already clambered in. Dean driving any further was definitely out of the question too.

"Can you move over a bit, baby?" Steph inquired patiently even though she could hear the sirens of the police cars approaching on the street on the other side of the buildings.

Dean woozily scooted over and Steph had him lie down into her lap before she moved the bench forward again so that she could reach the pedals. He was way too big to stretch out comfortably, his legs cramped against the door, but his girl's fingers in his hair once she got them moving and didn't need her right hand much anymore to drive was worth every bit of inconvenience.

Steph managed to get them back to the Bunker without incident, no one was on their tail either. That could be temporary though, who knew if any of the other stores had security cameras pointed at the back of the pharmacy. Maybe a call to Charlie was in order. She could take care of it in seconds.

Dean was practically passed out again, his breathing a bit shallow and rattling, which Steph did not like at all. Sam was similarly worse for wear in the back, snoring loudly with his mouth slightly open and head lolling against the window.

Just when she began assessing her options for actually getting them in their beds from the garage her cellphone went off loudly, waking the boys from their slumber. Dean immediately started coughing, sending her questioning looks as to who was calling her. There weren't that many options.

"Hey, Cas," Steph answered after checking the caller ID, burying her head in her palm, elbow propped on the car door. The angel sure had funny timing.

"Hello, Stephanie. You called," he said in that gravely, almost confused sounding voice, as if he was totally perplexed by that fact and couldn't imagine a possible reason why she would reach out to him.

"Did you get my voicemail?" she inquired with a sigh, having a bad feeling about this conversation already.

"No, I have not checked it yet," Castiel replied simply, not getting the significance or importance of doing so before calling missed calls back. Social norms weren't his strong suit though, Steph knew that well.

"Where are you now, Cas?" the girl questioned instead getting to the topic, because if he wasn't somewhere around here the whole thing was honestly a moot point.

"Washington, we just got here," the angel stated. So he was most likely with Metatron. Steph doubted that Cas was into using the majestic plural.

Steph almost asked whether he was referring to the state or DC, but actually it didn't really matter, both were roughly equal distance from the Bunker, being the geographic center and all. A two day drive at the minimum either way. She had never known Cas at full power, with his wings, able to teleport and everything, but damn that would have been convenient right about now, popping in as fast as a blink of an eye. But that was just it, he _wasn't_ at full power. _What was I thinking?_ Steph berated herself mentally.

 _"_ _HAE'hkgxrchshoum"_ Sam sneezed painfully in the backseat, the force of it snapping him forward.

"Is something wrong?" Cas asked after a few seconds of silence, clueless to her inner turmoil, but no doubt heard the thundering background noise.

"Uhm, no… Sam and Dean are just sick, but I think I have it under control, we got some prescription medicine from the doctor's," she decided that there was no point in lying really. It always just caused more problems than what it seemingly solved.

"I see," the angel said, deep in thought. Steph could practically see his furrowed brows as the gears turned in his head, assessing priorities and options.

"It's alright, Cas. I shouldn't have called anyway. Happy grace hunting with Metatron," the girl tried to ease his dilemma.

"There is nothing happy about hunting with Metatron," he asserted with way too much intensity to his tone.

"It's just a saying, Cas," Steph sighed again, with an amused smile dancing on the corners of her lips. The trench coated man had that effect on people.

"Oh," Castiel breathed with no doubt a bit of a tilt to his head as he processed that information. "Well then, when we are finished I could stop by. In three days probably."

"Thanks, Cas," she said earnestly before hanging up. They could survive three days with the meds no matter how bad things got, but she was pretty confident that by then the boys would be well on the mend.

"Did it… did it hurt?" Dean snickered at her with a loopy grin before proceeding to hacking up a lung again.

Steph rolled her eyes, already seeing where this was going but decided to indulge the very ill older Winchester anyway.

"Did what hurt, sweetie?" she murmured, brushing back his hair that despite being short was starting to stick to his forehead. He was way too feverish for her liking.

"When you fell from heaven?" Dean managed to croak out breathily before resuming his coughing. Exactly what she thought. Though interesting that this is the second time a severely feverish Winchester compared her to an angel.

"Dude, that's a lambe pick-up linde evend fromb you," Sam groaned, almost feeling embarrassed for his brother before he caught Steph's gaze telling him with a shake of her head that there was no point in teasing. Dean was way too out of it. Also proven by the fact that no response came from him to the jibe.

"Do you think you have enough energy to help me get him inside?" Steph whispered to the younger Winchester in the back, feeling more and more concerned about Dean who was practically a sack of limp jelly in her lap now.

There was just a momentary flash of panic in Sam's eyes as he tried to gather his bearings for the task, because honestly he was feeling like utter shit too. He finally nodded with determination then slowly clambered out of the car on Dean's side, making sure that he was steady before he stood.

"Sweetie… stay awake for me a bit longer okay?" Steph roused Dean gently, making him sit up. He was so disoriented as Sam opened the front door, it wasn't even funny. She swung her bag across her shoulder, and hurried to the other side to help Sam.

Even if she didn't have a bruised rib, she would have never been able to bear Dean's whole weight, and honestly his legs weren't doing much of the work now. Both of she and Sam were thoroughly exhausted and out of breath when they finally deposited Dean in her bed.

Sam stayed and helped as much as he could – although more like watched – while Steph stripped him of his clothes, down to a boxer, contemplating if the sponging would be enough while the meds kicked in or if she should try and get into the bathtub. Speaking of which, she got the prescription bottles out of her bag, sorting out which was whose, handing the three that was in Sam's name to him.

"Take one of each now, okay? And you should probably take a cool shower. Do you need any help with that?" she asked, desperately hoping that the answer would be no so that she could concentrate on Dean who seemed to be worse off between the two of them at the moment, even if only marginally. Sam looked just about ready to collapse too, even though he was already sitting in the sofa. Definitely cool washcloths, because without Sam she didn't stand a chance.

"Ndo, I cad mandage," he tried to wave her off, pushing himself out of the armchair to go back to his own room, but swayed so hard on his shaky feet that he almost brought Steph down with him to the floor when she sprung up to steady him.

"Scratch that, just take the pills and strip down to a single layer of clothing okay? I'll come over in a few minutes," the girl sent him off with a worried glance over her shoulder as he staggered out, glad that his room was just next door and not all the way down the hall.

Dean was shivering hard with his fevered skin exposed to the room temperature but too out of it to do anything about it except clumsily trying to find the edge of the blanket beneath him, but not succeeding at all. It was pretty thin so Steph decided to allow him to have it, helping his fumbling hand to get him under the covers. She then got his pills and measured out his cough medicine.

"Baby…" she stroked his face but all she got as a response was a rumbling groan of discomfort and discontent. "I need you to take these."

Maybe thanks to the urgency in her tone or whatever it was, but he cooperated enough to be pulled into a sitting position, swallowing everything offered to him before basically just flopping back down. Steph tried to arrange the pillow behind his back so that he could breathe better, then placed a cool wet cloth on his head for now before going over to check on Sam.

He looked like he had lost his steam somewhere right in the middle of getting into bed, on his stomach, one leg still on the floor, the blanket haphazardly thrown over his middle. But at least he was dressed appropriately for bed.

"Sam…" Steph approached quietly, tucking his hair out of his face, which was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "Did you take you meds?"

"Ye _ah-heh_ ," he mumbled, accompanied by a nod before his nose scrunched up in preparation of a sneeze. " _hah'rcheh-uh… huhrraegxgshoo… hae'reeshumh!"_

Sam tried to turn his face to muffle his sneezes into his pillow and avoid spraying Steph, but only half accomplished that goal, too tired to move fast enough or to do anything about the stream of congestion on his upper lip, snuffling miserably. Honestly he was grossed out by himself, and extremely embarrassed by the fact that he had a witness to all of this, but like mentioned earlier he was beyond caring at this point. Besides, Steph was like family.

"Bless you," Steph just sighed, getting some Kleenex from the box on the nightstand and wiping his nose. That elicited a slightly raised brow of surprise on Sam's part before he took over. There were limits to the sickly humiliation he was willing to endure. She threw the crumpled tissue into the trash bin with a shake of her head after he dropped it down to the floor. "Come one, let's get you in bed properly."

"I thigk Deand would object to that," he chuckled with a goofy grin before coughing lightly into his wrist. At least his cold seemed to be staying out of his lungs.

"Haha, very funny," she rolled her eyes as she coaxed him into bed, making him turn on his side at least so she could place a cool cloth on his forehead too. He was out like a light within seconds.

Once the younger Winchester was situated too, Steph rose from her crouch by his bed, trying desperately not to gasp because of the pain that shot through her torso, lest she woke or alarmed him. The last thing they needed was worrying about her too.

She shuffled over to her own room, making sure that Dean was still breathing and mostly fine before grabbing some sweats and loose shirt along with a medkit, and taking a long shower to wash off the horrors of the morning.

The hot water soothed her tense muscles some, but could do nothing about the angry reddish purple bruise that was now forming on the right side of her torso. It was really sensitive to touch and Steph could only hope that it really was just bruised and not cracked or worse. At least her breathing seemed fine, not sharp puncture like pains with inhales just the uncomfortable stretching of muscles. Before putting on her fresh clothes she was sure to wrap her chest as best as she could to avoid further damage, but that's all she could do for now.

* * *

The next few hours were spent with diligently applying cold washcloths and towels to every square inch of exposed skin on the boys' bodies until Steph was satisfied that the heat emanating from them was considerably lower than before thanks to her ministrations or the meds. She kept constant vigil by their sides switching rooms about every hour. The Winchesters practically slept through the day, only woken by her for medicine and some fluids to be coaxed into them on a regular basis. Good thing Steph had made so much soup the day before, it came pretty handy right now.

Afraid that Dean would subconsciously crush her against his side and unwittingly aggravate her injuries if she tried to sleep with him, around 11 PM Steph decided to just try and get some shuteye in the armchair in her room, however uncomfortable that might be. Her ribs screamed for a level surface but she wasn't willing to leave the sick boys' sides. As it is she had an alarm for 3 AM set up on vibrate on her phone stashed in her pocket so that she could check on them without waking them and then switch to the armchair in Sam's room for a while.

So much for that plan. She was so exhausted and knocked out by the pain meds she ultimately took in the evening when the throbbing in her upper body became too much to bear that the low buzz of the vibrations did nothing to drag her out of dreamland. Dean on the other hand heard it.

"Steph?" he rasped groggily, feeling around for her by his side, but ultimately coming up empty and very confused by that fact. He flicked the bedside lamp on, blinding himself and instantly waking Steph.

"Mhm… hey, everything alright?" the girl asked, squinting at the bright light as she tried to push herself out of the chair to rush to him but gasped and winced in pain instead, falling back to her original position.

"Fuck, we never took a look at your ribs," Dean realized, his fuzzy brain putting together yesterday's events. Guilt was written all over his face.

"It's okay, I wrapped them," she clambered up more carefully this time, coming to sit by the older Winchester's side on the bed, her hand practically automatically reaching for his forehead to gauge his temperature. It did feel a lot cooler, though still a bit warm. "How are you feeling?"

"Like death warmed over, but better I guess," he sighed, coughing a little that finally started bringing stuff up so he promptly grabbed a few tissues to spit into.

"Good," Steph breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing her tired eyes.

"You look beat, come to bed," Dean beckoned her.

"Yeah, uhm, just gonna check on Sam first," she was hoping that his fever had broken by now too, but if not then another sponging was in order. Dean looked just a tad hurt at first, as if he got rejected, but let her go with an approving nod. Or maybe he was just upset that he couldn't do it himself and it was a bitter reminder that his little brother was just as sick too.

Sam was peacefully asleep, albeit snoring loudly through his still present congestion. Steph assessed him in the weak light filtering in from the hallway, happy that he didn't wake from her touch. His temperature seemed to be at a much manageable level too. Hopefully they were both on the mend.

Despite her earlier plans she left Sam, carefully closing his door behind herself, returning to her own room where Dean was intently waiting for her, already having scooted over on the bed to make sure Steph had enough room to sleep, and casting questioning glances to her.

"He seems better," was all she said, hesitantly standing by the foot of her bed. It was very inviting, but she still worried about Dean's snakelike arms and extreme cuddling tendencies when unconscious.

"I'll behave, come," he invited her with that trademark smirk. He really must have been feeling somewhat better to be flirting with her again. Well, at least the lack of extremely high fever was an immediate plus. Though he sure was a charmer half out of his mind too. Still, the effect it had on her was much different when he did it in a lucid state of mind. More on the sexy than the pitiful side. "That chair can't be good for your back."

"Says the man who has slept countless nights in the back of cars, shitty motel rooms, couches and chairs," Steph chuckled, carefully climbing in bed, trying to keep her torso as straight as possible through the whole process.

"Yeah and my back dolefully bitches every single time," Dean muttered emphatically, visibly struggling with what to do with his hands that naturally wanted to embrace the girl by his side. In the end he just intertwined their fingers to keep them occupied and away from her hurting ribs.

"Goodnight, Dean," Steph smiled with a shake of her head and roll of her eyes, running her thumb along the back of his hand.

They didn't have to wait long for sleep to claim them again.


	17. Chapter 17

Three days later the Winchesters were well on their way towards full-blown cabin fever. They were DEFINITELY feeling much better and itching to do something, to get out of the Bunker or basically anything, despite the random sneezing fits and coughing that still ensued on a regular basis. Both their fevers were stably below 101 for at least 24 hours now without the help of meds, though of course they still had their rounds of antibiotic and antiviral pills to finish. Steph had to remind them not to stop taking them despite feeling on the upswing. Dean of course had some grumbling remarks about that.

"Come _on_ ," Sam practically whined at the breakfast table after practically shoveling the food inside his mouth now that his appetite was back. His voice was still a bit stuffy but not nearly as bad as before. "Let me do _something_."

Dean at least had Steph to keep himself occupied. The better he felt the less he seemed to be able to keep his hands to himself, always lingering on one body part or another of Steph's, but Sam was utterly bored out of his mind. At one point Steph had considered confiscating their phones and laptops to prevent them from searching for cases until they were all better, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get away with it. Instead she sneakily made sure to reroute anything that came up to other hunters. Thankfully that was all but one case, a simple werewolf hunt based on the signs, so it didn't take that much convincing. But all in all TV and music could entertain the boys only for so long. Or books for that matter in Sam's case. He was back to researching how to get rid of the Mark of Cain, which he could do from the comfort of the couch, bundled in blankets, but even that started to feel tedious to him without being able to leave the Bunker.

So this sort of put Stephanie in a dilemma. In all honesty, they really needed that supply run right about now, which became painfully evident to her when she found that they were completely out of eggs this morning, so breakfast wasn't such a fancy affair as before. Namely cereal, toast with jam and the odd fruit she could still find. So that gave her an idea.

"Come here," she beckoned the disgruntled hunter who complied with brows raised in suspicion. She stuck a thermometer in his mouth, motioning him to sit back down until she got a reading. Internally she decided that if it was below a 100 she would let him go get groceries, just to occupy him with something pretty harmless that would allow him to venture outside. Honestly sometimes she really believed that toddlers were easier to handle than these two.

"99.8," the younger Winchester announced, looking up at her hopefully as if knowing that it was below the arbitrary line she had drawn. Steph hesitated for a moment, biting her bottom lip. And then he threw in the eyes. Damn the freaking puppy dog eyes.

"Alright," she sighed, relenting to his will, going to the fridge to tear her complied shopping list down from the pad. "You feel up to a supply run?"

Sam's head was bobbing up and down eagerly, even if the motion did make him wince a bit at the lingering pain he still had in his sinuses. He snatched the piece of paper from her and practically skipped out of the kitchen before she could change her mind.

 _Yepp._ Just like hyperactive toddlers presented with new toys.

"What's got into Sammy?" Dean walked in with a perplexed expression on his face, no doubt having run into his brother in the hallway.

"Apparently grocery shopping is the next big thing," Steph tried to say with a straight face but failed miserably when she saw Dean's despondent expression.

"Man," he griped enviously. "Why does he get to get out?"

Have I mentioned big ass toddlers?

So as a solution she stuck the thermometer into his mouth too, much to his surprise, but he too sat down compliantly after a second. One thing they learned in the past few days was that everything went just that much smoother if they didn't try to fight Steph's caretaker tendencies.

"100.1," she said, checking after the beeping. "That's why. His was below 100."

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed under his breath.

"Am I not entertaining enough for you anymore?" the girl mock pouted.

"That's… that's not what I said," he carefully backtracked, sensing a trap here.

"I know," Steph chuckled. Ah, it was way too easy to tease him. "You know that does mean we have the Bunker to ourselves for a while…"

The shit eating grin that appeared on his face was just plain adorable. Not to mention sexy as fuck.

* * *

Just as a precaution Sam went east on Route 36 instead of west for shopping, despite the fact that no car with the description of the Impala had a BOLO on it in relation to the pharmacy incident, and Charlie had also made sure that there was no footage of them left anywhere that could connect the boys or Steph to the scene, hacking into every security system in the area. Still, better be safe than sorry.

" _huh'rshoum"_ he sneezed into his wrist as he got out of the car, blowing his nose quickly before fetching a cart. Undoubtedly he was still under the weather a little bit but nothing that would hinder him in doing something as normal as getting groceries. Even if his nose was still chapped and pink.

Sam strolled along the aisles, pushing the cart casually with his elbows, leaning onto it as he gathered all the items on his list, but of course he was on high alert for trouble. That is until he got to the dairy section and the cold from the fridges hit him, making his nose twitch with a tickle deep in his sinuses.

" _HUH'KRSHOO… hkrsh…_ " the hunter sneezed into his elbow forcefully, wanting to curse this wretched sinus infection away already. He was utterly done with sneezing like three days ago.

"If it isn't Sam Evans, I'd recognize those sneezes anywhere," came an amused female voice from behind him, taking the younger Winchester completely by surprise. He spun around, only to be met with the chocolate brown eyes and lovely smile of Dr. Turner. Truth be told, he really had given her a wide selection of examples back then, so it wasn't a farfetched idea that she would be able to identify him based on those.

"Doctor…" Sam began, taken aback for a moment, but honestly he was glad he got to see her again. Though this seemed like an awfully convenient and rather big coincidence. How to test her for the supernatural without being too conspicuous?

"Sophie is fine," the woman waved his formality off with a small laugh, none of that professional cool distance in her demeanor that she kept up all throughout his examination.

"Your name is Sophie Turner? Like the Game of Thrones actress?" he quirked his brow at her, honestly unable to keep the smile off his face as he offered a hand to shake, with his bracelet that had a silver clasp turned to the inside of his palm.

"Yes, but no relation," Sophie confirmed unflinching or showing any reaction to the silver before conspiratorially leaning closer to Sam's ear to whisper. " _Unfortunately_."

Smart, beautiful, tall and geeky. Geez. This woman was way too perfect. Too bad nothing would ever come of it. Though she seemed interested enough. Wasn't there some ethics code against this? Flirting with patients? Although technically one could argue that he wasn't her patient anymore. All Sam could do was stare, unable to decide how to proceed as he got stuck in the whirlwind of moral dilemma and attraction.

"Are you okay, Sam?" she assessed him with concern. He still looked ill, even if admittedly much better than when she had last seen him in her office. "Honestly I'm surprised your sister-in-law let you out of the house so soon."

"Yeah, uhm, yeah, I'm fine," the hunter reached into his jacket for a bottle of holy water, pretending that he needed a drink because of his throat or something. "I kind of… khm… pestered her into letting me do the grocery shopping. I get stir crazy after being stuck inside for so long."

He fumbled a bit with the bottle, "accidentally" spilling some on the good doctor. No sizzling. Well so far so good.

"Careful," Sophie steadied his hand with her own, all smiles for him. Apparently she also had a thing for guys who got kind awkward and clumsy around girls, not just the tall, mopey haired ones. One could suppose in a sense Sam sometimes fit all those criteria.

"Sorry," Sam looked apologetic as he took a quick swig to keep up the pretenses before putting the bottle away. "So, uhm, funny seeing you here?"

"Well, I live here in Mankato. I only substituted in Smith Center because their doctor was out with the flu too," she explained, her expression suddenly turning a bit forlorn. "Have you heard about the pharmacy?"

"Yeah, we heard. Tragic, really," he said without missing a beat, his face giving nothing away, keeping his tone appropriately regretful.

She sighed, shaking her head as if trying to forget about the whole thing, while Sam wondered if he had been convincing enough in the ensuing, and somewhat awkward, silence.

"Ookay… way to kill the mood, Sophie," the doctor muttered under her breath self-deprecatingly before looking back up into Sam's hazel eyes, absentmindedly playing with her long brown curly locks that weren't constricted by the professional hairdo this time. "Do you want to maybe get a coffee or something?"

"Uhm, I'd love to…" the younger Winchester began to turn her down, although very reluctantly so, trying to be as kind about it as he could. "You seem like a great gal, but I don't want to string you along. We travel a lot for work, and…"

"Good thing it isn't really coffee that I was offering then, right?" she grinned, cutting the string of excuses short, because truth be told that wasn't a no in general, just a no to a relationship and she appreciated the honesty. She wasn't sure if she wanted anything too serious at the moment anyway. Especially not with a former patient. But ever since Sam Evans had walked into her exam room she wanted him in her bed, hot and heavy. At the time she never thought she would actually get a chance, and now that it was here she wasn't going to let it pass just because it would be a onetime thing.

"Oh," the hunter exhaled before suddenly her intent became clear to him. _God, I suck at casual flirting_ , he thought, _Dean would have a field day with this._

Sophie giggled at his furrowed brows that suddenly turned into wide-eyed expression a second later settling into an adorable, kind of coy smirk that told her that he got the message loud and clear.

Shopping was abruptly reduced to a hurried affair, both of them running off to get everything after agreeing to meet at the checkout line. They were out of there within ten minutes and Sam took her to back to her house to engage in some 'not coffee'. Driving a sleek classic black Chevy certainly didn't hurt either, the sight of it evidently had the good doctor swooning, though the deal was sealed long before Baby came on the scene.

* * *

Things weren't going so flawlessly back at the Bunker. After preparing breakfast for Dean too, Steph had them settled on the couch, watching a movie. Well, pretending to watch a movie. It quickly turned into a make out session, which honestly left her all tingly as if she was a teenager again. No one has ever made her feel this way before.

Then Dean's hands started to roam, which was all well and fine until he reached her chest. She was able to hide the wince that wanted to surface because of the pain in her ribs for a while, but when Dean had practically pushed them down to the side and was heavily on top of her, Steph couldn't stop the gasp that left her lips, her face contorting in pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry," the older Winchester backed off immediately as he realized his mistake, shifting himself back onto his heels, looking contrite and honestly a bit afraid to touch her again lest he caused her pain. _Again_. There's just been too much of that this week.

"Not your fault," the girl breathed automatically, reaching an arm out to him, asking for help to sit back up.

"Right. According to you, it's never my fault," he grumbled with a roll of his eyes as he carefully pulled her up, Steph clutching her side the whole time.

"Well, you didn't kick me in the ribs," she offered the simple explanation. It wasn't his fault she was injured. This time neither mentally nor physically.

"You never should have been alone in there, thrown into the middle of the situation with a demon," Dean countered, because honestly that's how he felt. They had failed her in this. If they hadn't been sick she would never have run into the fucker. Not the first time, not the second, nor the third.

"You couldn't have known there would be a demon," Steph quipped with a sigh, tired of this downward spiral already. Though at least Dean was talking to her and not wallowing in his perceived shame all alone. That was a big step forward she supposed.

"The guy was fishy from the start, we should have dug deeper the moment you had a bad feeling about him," he had to admit she had superb hunter's intuition, her first thought in the store was that he was a demon. The hunter was kicking himself mentally for not following through even if it did seem at the time that he was just a guy trying to get her number.

"First off, you were sick as a dog, I'm not blaming you for not realizing he was a real threat. After calming down I honestly thought I was just spooked too. Second, you can't protect me from everything. That's why we train, so I can handle myself if anything happens. I didn't die, I call that win," she ranted on, wondering for a second if Dean had been listening to her at all in the ensuing silence.

"I shouldn't have gotten carried away when you are clearly hurt," he declared in a softer tone finally as if he just HAD to find a way to spin this against himself. Fucking guilt complex.

"Then I'll take charge," Steph said confidently, pushing Dean back down on his back with ease, since he wasn't really putting up any resistance. Then she straddled him, which caught him in wide-eyed surprise. Steph had never initiated anything sexual between them before, too unsure of herself and her place in this relationship until now. And of course Dean had been really ill which so far prompted her to be a caretaker rather than a partner, even if he wasn't shy showing his attraction all this time. Whether he would have been physically able to follow through until now was another question, and they both probably had very different opinions on that.

She leaned down to press a kiss against his lips, but of course the forward motion upset her the muscles in her torso all over again, making her pause midway as she caught her breath. Dean noticed of course, too much on high alert to get immersed in his wants and needs now.

"Maybe we should resume this another time," he gently suggested, moving to sit back up.

"Shut the fuck up, Dean Winchester," the girl pushed him back down by the shoulders, kissing him hard. In only a fraction of a second he was responding, mouth moving in sync with hers, his hands finding their way back to her hips, paying very close attention at keeping them there. A few moments later Steph reemerged with a playful smirk on her lips. "You don't always get to call the shots."

Dean found the whole thing absolutely hot and mesmerizing. Steph always had the ability to surprise him and she didn't disappoint this time either, flipping their roles around like this. Carefully he began peeling her shirt off of her, trying not to look at the angry purple bruise that would surely ruin his mood again.

Just as he got it safely over her head with her help, the Bunker door opened with a loud bang, someone trotting down with purposeful steps on the stairs. It was way too early for Sam to be back yet, it had only been about an hour since he left.

"Dean? Sam?" came Cas's inquisitive voice through the war room to their spot, giving Steph just enough time to wincingly straighten back up and yank the just discarded shirt in front of her bare chest – because screw bras while at home – when the angel walked into the library, having a clean line of sight on her and Dean. "Hello… Stephanie?"

Castiel's eyes went wide for a second and he quickly turned around as he realized her state of undress, no doubt feeling highly uncomfortable and embarrassed. She quickly put the shirt back on, getting off of Dean, who found this moment perfect to choke on his own breath and begin coughing.

"I am confused as to how the sight of breasts is supposed to help with an upper respiratory infection," the angel mused out loud, wondering if it was safe to turn back around yet.

"Shut it, Cas," Dean huffed between shallow breaths as Steph helped him sit up, clearly peeved that someone other than him got to see more skin on his girl than he would have liked.

"They are not related," she supplied amusedly, trying not to laugh at either of their reactions to the situation. "I'm decent again by the way."

The man in the trench coat turned to face them again, though he clearly had trouble looking Steph in the eye.

"I am glad things seem to be going well between you two," he offered sincerely, his eyes twinkling with something that could be interpreted as 'I told you so'.

"So what's up, Cas? Did you find your grace?" Steph diverted the topic, trying very hard not to dwell on the fact that seemingly everyone had known of Dean's attraction to her for a long a time, except her.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did," the angel revealed, though his reaction was far from the exuberant joy this event should have warranted, which suggested that something must have happened.

"Where's Metatron?" Dean piped in, his face in a hard mask, his thoughts taking the same drift.

"He escaped with the demon tablet," Cas admitted shamefully.

"Excuse me. What?" the older Winchester inquired menacingly, already imagining what the rogue Scribe of God could do with that thing.

"Okay, calm down you two, no need to get into a shouting match," Steph intervened, getting up from the couch to act as a physically barrier between them.

"You are hurt again," Cas observed her movements carefully, shooting an accusatory glance to Dean around her.

"Don't look at him like that, he had nothing to do with it," she snapped her fingers in front of him to get his attention back. "I had an unfortunate run in with a demon when we went out three days ago."

"Three days… Wait a minute. Before or after I called you back?" the angel looked at her now as if she was a small child to be scolded.

"Before…" Steph confessed in a small voice.

"Why didn't you say something?" Cas asked exasperatedly.

"Say what exactly? Tell you to come back and heal all of us? Without your grace?" she burst out, hoping he would see the ridiculousness of a request like that.

"That is not a problem anymore," he walked up to her instead, placing two fingers on her forehead and healing her completely, before going over and doing the same for Dean, whose skin tone became immediately a healthy light pink instead of the different shades of pale he had been sporting for days.

"Oh, lookie! Air! I've almost forgot what a joy you are to have," he exclaimed happily, taking a few deep lungfuls and relishing in the fact that it didn't send him right into a coughing fit, the problem of Metatron seemingly forgotten for now.

"Where's Sam?" the angel asked, noticing the other hunter's profound absence.

"At the grocery store," Steph replied, Dean too immersed in his renewed health to engage in conversation. "I'll call him," she offered, dialing already, when she saw Cas's furrowed brows that suggested he had elsewhere to be, though it would still take at least twenty minutes for him to get back even if he left right at this second.

And Sam wasn't even picking up.

* * *

In the end it was another three hours before the younger Winchester made an appearance.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean bellowed instantly, his worry resurfacing as aggression as he stomped his way to the garage upon hearing the roar of Baby's engine.

"Uhm, supply run, I thought Steph would have told you," Sam replied with raised brows at the unprovoked verbal attacked, sniffling a little as he went to the trunk of the car to unload.

"For four freaking hours?" the older brother questioned, because unless he went like all the way to the Walmart Supercenter an hour away, there was absolutely no reason for grocery shopping to take this long.

"I might have run into someone at the store…" he tentatively admitted, casting uneasy glances at his brother, anticipating instant teasing.

"Who?" Dean asked exasperatedly, not really having the patience for twenty questions at the moment.

"Sophie… I mean Dr. Turner," the younger Winchester revealed, the tips of his ears turning just slightly red from the embarrassment at this interrogation.

Dean's face went from accusatory to perplexed then quickly to surprised before settling on impressed as he put two and two together. _Way to score, Sammy!_

"You could have sent a text," Dean suggested nonchalantly as if that was the most natural thing in the world, not wanting to add to his guilt and ruining the afterglow by revealing that Steph had been going out of her mind with worry, blaming herself, stating that she should never have let Sam go, that he had been still too sick and imagining the worst possible scenarios that could have happened causing his delay, like collapsing in the store or running into other demons, getting killed or captured because he was unable to fight them off alone in his condition.

"Seriously? What am I? 15? Having to check in with my big brother before I do anything?" he burst out indignantly, refusing to be treated like a kid.

"The joke's on you. You missed Cas and his magic fingers," the older hunter laughed out. The angel even waited an hour but then had to excuse himself because of the urgent matters he had to attend to.

"Ew," Sam crinkled his nose and brows, not wanting to know what Dean was insinuating but it sounded like bad porn.

"Healing, Sam. Healing. He got his grace back," Dean explained, deadpan expression on his face after the failed joke.

"Oh," the younger Winchester exhaled, now realizing that Dean in fact looked like the model of health, contemplating the situation before shrugging. "Well, it was still worth it."

"Sure, it was," Dean just laughed, trotting back towards the inside of the Bunker to deliver the good news to Steph.

* * *

In another three days Sam was also back to a 100%, diligently swallowing his pills as prescribed.

And then Charlie called. She had found the Book of the Damned.

THE END


End file.
